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Spinning-Wheel 
Stories. 


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BY 


LOUISA  M.   ALCOTT, 


AUTHOR   OF    "LITTLE  WOMEN,"    "  AN   OLD-FASHIONED   GIRL,"    "LITTLE   MEN, 

"EIGHT     COUSINS,"     "ROSE     IN      BLOOM,"      "  UNDER      THE     LILACS," 

"JACK    AND    JILL,"     "HOSPITAL     SKETCHES,"    "  WORK,    A 

STORY     OF      EXPERIENCE,"       "  MOODS,      A     NOVEL," 

"PROVERB    STORIES,"    "  SILVER    PITCHERS," 

"AUNT    JO'S    SCRAP-BAG." 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 

1884. 


Copyright,  1884, 
By  Louisa  M.  Alcott. 


John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Grandma's  Story 1 

Tabby's  Table-cloth      . 25 

Eli's  Education 47 

Onawandah 71 

Little  Things 91 

The  Banner  of  Beaumanoir 115 

Jerseys;   or,  the  Girl's  Ghost 137 

The  Little  House  in  the  Garden     ....  163 

Daisy's  Jewel-box,  and  How  She  filled  it  .  187 

Corny's  Catamount 209 

The  Cooking-Class 233 

The  Hare  and  the  Tortoise 255 


-g^>.,X 


"  It  is  too  bad  to  have  our  jolly  vacation  spoiled  by 
this  provoking  storm.  Didn't  mind  it  yesterday,  be- 
cause we  could  eat  all  the  time ;  but  here  we  are 
cooped  up  for  a  week,  perhaps,  and  I  'd  like  to  know 
what  we  are  to  do,"  growled  Geoff,  as  he  stood  at  the 
window  looking  gloomily  at  the  bleak  scene  without. 
It  certainly  was  discouraging;  for  the  north  wind 
howled,  the  air  was  dark  with  falling  snow,  and  drifts 
were  rising  over  fences,  roads,  and  fields,  as  if  to 
barricade  the  Christmas  party  in  the  great  country 
house. 

"We  can  bear  it  pleasantly,  since  it  can't  be 
helped,"  said  gentle  sister  Mary,  with  a  kind  hand  on 
his  shoulder,  and  a  face  full  of  sympathy  for  his  dis- 
appointment. "  I  'm  sorry  for  the  coasting,  skating,  and 
sleighing  frolics  we  have  lost ;  but  if  we  must  be  shut 
up,  I  'm  sure  we  could  n't  have  a  pleasanter  prison  or  a 
kinder  jailer.  Don't  let  grandma  hear  us  complain, 
for  she  has  made  great  exertions  to  have  our  visit  a 
merry  one,  and  it  will  trouble  her  if  we  are  not  gay 
and  contented." 


2  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  That 's  easy  for  a  parcel  of  girls,  who  only  want  to 
mull  over  the  fire,  and  chatter,  and  drink  tea ;  but  it 's 
rough  on  us  fellows,  who  come  for  the  outside  fun. 
House  is  well  enough ;  but  when  you  've  seen  it  once, 
there  's  an  end.  Eating  is  jolly,  but  you  can't  stuff 
forever.  We  might  dig,  or  snowball,  if  it  did  n't  blow  a 
gale.  Never  saw  such  a  beast  of  a  storm  ! "  —  and  Geoff 
flattened  his  nose  against  the  window-pane  and  scowled 
at  the  elements. 

A  laugh  made  him  turn  around,  and  forget  his  woes 
to  stare  at  the  quaint  little  figure  that  stood  curtseying 
in  the  door-way  of  the  keeping-room,  where  a  dozen 
young  people  were  penned  while  the  maids  cleared  up 
the  remains  of  yesterday's  feast  in  the  kitchen,  the 
mothers  were  busy  with  the  babies  upstairs,  and  the 
fathers  read  papers  in  the  best  parlor;  for  this  was  a 
family  gathering  under  the  roof  of  the  old  homestead. 

A  rosy,  dark-eyed  face  looked  out  from  the  faded 
green  calash,  a  gayly  flowered  gown  was  looped  up 
over  a  blue  quilted  petticoat,  and  a  red  camlet  cloak 
hung  down  behind.  A  big  reticule  and  a  funny 
umbrella  were  held  in  either  hand,  and  red  hose  and 
very  high-heeled,  pointed  shoes  covered  a  trim  pair  of 

feet. 

"  God  bless  you,  merry  gentlemen  ! 
May  nothing  you  dismay  ; 
Here 's  your  ancient  granny  come 
To  call,  this  Christmas  day," 

sang  Minnie,  the  lively  member  of  the  flock,  as  she 
bobbed  little  curtseys  and  smiled  so  infectiously  that 
even  cross  Geoff  cheered  up. 


GRANDMA'S  STORY.  3 

"Where  did  you  get  that  rigging?"  "  Is  n't  it 
becoming  1 "  "  What  queer  stuff !  "  "  Did  grandma 
ever  look  so,  I  wonder  1 " 

These  and  many  other  questions  rained  upon  the 
wearer  of  the  old  costume,  and  she  answered  them  as 
fast  as  she  could. 

11 1  went  rummaging  up  garret  for  something  to  read, 
and  found  two  chests  of  old  duds.  Thought  I  'd  dress 
up  and  see  how  you  liked  me.  Grandma  said  I  might, 
and  told  me  I  looked  like  her  when  she  was  young. 
She  was  a  beauty,  you  know ;  so  I  feel  as  proud  as  a 
peacock."  And  Min  danced  away  to  stand  before  the 
portrait  of  a  blooming  girl  in  a  short-waisted,  white- 
satin  gown  and  a  pearl  necklace,  which  hung  opposite 
the  companion  portrait  of  an  officer  in  an  old-fashioned 
uniform. 

"  So  you  do.  Wonder  if  I  should  look  like 
grandpa  it  I  got  into  his  old  toggery ! "  said  Geoff, 
looking  up  at  the  handsome  man  with  the  queue  and 
the  high  coat-collar. 

"  Go  and  try ;  the  uniform  is  in  the  chest,  and  not 
much  moth-eaten.  Let's  have  a  jolly  rummage,  and 
see  what  we  can  find.  We  didn't  eat  ourselves  sick, 
so  we  will  amuse  these  lazy  invalids ; "  and  Min 
glanced  pityingly  at  several  cousins  who  lay  about  on 
sofas  or  in  easy  chairs,  pretending  to  read,  but  evi- 
dently suffering  from  too  great  devotion  to  the  boun- 
tiful dinner  and  evening  feast  of  yesterday. 

Away  went  Min  and  Lotty,  Geoff  and  Walt,  glad  of 
anything  to  beguile  the  stormy  afternoon.  Grandma 
smiled  as  she  heard  the  tramp  of  feet  overhead,  the 


4  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

peals  of  laughter,  and  the  bang  of  chest-lids,  well 
knowing  that  a  scene  of  dire  confusion  awaited  her 
when  the  noisy  frolic  was  done,  but  thankful  for  the 
stores  of  ancient  finery  which  would  keep  the  restless 
children  happy  for  a  day. 

It  was  truly  a  noble  garret,  for  it  extended  the 
whole  length  of  the  great  square  house,  with  windows 
at  either  end,  and  divided  in  the  middle  by  a  solid 
chimney.  All  around  stood  rows  of  chests,  dilapidated 
furniture,  and  wardrobes  full  of  old  relics,  while  the 
walls  were  hung  with  many  things  for  which  modern 
tongues  can  find  no  names.  In  one  corner  was  a  book- 
case full  of  musty  books  and  papers ;  in  another, 
kitchen  utensils  and  rusty  weapons ;  the  third  was  de- 
voted to  quilts  hung  on  lines,  and  in  the  fourth  stood  a 
loom'  with  a  spinning-wheel  beside  it,  both  seemingly 
well  cared  for,  as  the  dust  lay  lightly  on  them,  and 
flax  was  still  upon  the  distaff. 

A  glorious  rummage  followed  the  irruption  of  the 
Goths  and  Yandals  into  this  quiet  spot,  and  soon  Geoff 
quite  forgot  the  storm  as  he  pranced  about  in  the  buff- 
and-blue  coat,  with  a  cocked  hat  on  his  head,  and 
grandfather's  sword  at  his  side.  Lotty  arrayed  herself 
in  a  pumpkin  hood  and  quilted  cloak  for  warmth, 
while  Walt,  the  book-worm,  went  straight  to  the  an- 
cient library,  and  became  absorbed  in  faded  souvenirs, 
yellow  newspapers,  and  almanacs  of  a  century  ago. 

Having  displayed  themselves  below  and  romped  all 
over  the  house,  the  masqueraders  grew  tired  at  last, 
and  early  twilight  warned  them  to  leave  before  ghostly 
shadows  began  to  haunt  the  garret. 


GRANDMA'S   STORY.  5 

"I  mean  to  take  this  down  and  ask  grandma  to 
show  me  how  it 's  done.  I  've  heard  her  tell  about 
spinning  and  weaving  when  she  was  a  girl,  and  I  know 
I  can  learn,"  said  Minnie,  who  had  fallen  in  love  with 
the  little  wheel,  and  vainly  tried  to  twist  the  flax  into 
as  smooth  a  thread  as  the  one  hanging  from  the  distaff, 
as  if  shadowy  fingers  had  lately  spun  it. 

"  Queen  Victoria  set  the  fashion  in  England,  and  we 
might  do  it  here.  Would  n't  it  be  fun  to  have  a  wheel 
in  the  parlor  at  home,  and  really  use  it ;  not  keep  it 
tied  up  with  blue  ribbons,  as  the  other  girls  do !  " 
cried  Lotty,  charmed  with  the  new  idea. 

"Come,  Geoff,  take  it  down  for  us.  You  ought  to 
do  it  out  of  gratitude  for  my  cheering  you  up  so 
nicely,"  said  Min,  leading  the  way. 

"  So  I  will.  Here,  Walt,  give  it  a  hoist,  and  come 
behind  to  pick  up  the  pieces,  for  the  old  machine  must 
be  about  a  hundred,  I  guess." 

Shouldering  the  wheel,  Geoff  carried  it  down;  but 
no  bits  fell  by  the  way,  for  the  stout  little  wheel  was 
all  in  order,  kept  so  by  loving  hands  that  for  more 
than  eighty  years  had  been  spinning  the  mingled 
thread  of  a  long  and  useful  life. 

Glorious  fires  were  roaring  up  the  wide  chimneys  in 
parlor  and  keeping-room,  and  old  and  young  were 
gathering  around  them,  while  the  storm  beat  on  the 
window-panes,  and  the  wintry  wind  howled  as  if  angry 
at  being  shut  out. 

"See  what  we've  stolen,  grandma,"  cried  Min,  as 
the  procession  came  in,  rosy,  dusty,  gay,  and  eager. 

"  Bless  the  child !  What  possessed  you  to  lug  that 


6  SPINNING-WHEEL   STOKIES. 

old  thing  down  1 "  asked  Madam  Shirley,  mnch  amused 
as  the  prize  was  placed  before  her,  where  she  sat  in  her 
high-backed  chair,  —  a  right  splendid  old  lady  in  her 
stately  cap,  black  silk  gown,  and  muslin  apron,  with  a 
bunch  of  keys  at  her  side,  like  a  model  housekeeper,  as 
she  was. 

"  You  don't  mind  our  playing  with  it,  do  you  1  And 
will  you  teach  me  to  spin  1  I  think  it 's  such  a  pretty 
little  thing,  and  I  want  to  be  like  you  in  all  ways, 
grandma  dear,"  answered  Min,  sitting  on  the  arm  of 
the  great  chair,  with  her  fresh  cheek  close  to  the 
wrinkled  one  where  winter  roses  still  bloomed. 

"  You  wheedling  gypsy  !  I  '11  teach  you  with  all 
my  heart,  for  it  is  pretty  work,  and  I  often  wonder 
ladies  don't  keep  it  up.  I  did  till  I  was  too  busy,  and 
now  I  often  take  a  turn  at  it  when  I  'm  tired  of  knit- 
ting. The  hum  is  very  soothing,  and  the  thread  much 
stronger  than  any  we  get  nowadays." 

As  she  spoke,  the  old  lady  dusted  the  wheel,  and 
gave  it  a  skilful  turn  or  two,  till  the  soft  whir  made 
pleasant  music  in  the  room. 

"  Is  it  really  a  hundred  years  old  ] "  asked  Geoff, 
drawing  nearer  with  the  others  to  watch  the  new 
work. 

"  Just  about.  It  was  one  of  my  mother's  wedding 
presents,  and  she  gave  it  to  me  when  I  was  fifteen. 
Deary  me,  how  well  I  remember  that  day ! "  and 
grandma  seemed  to  fall  a-dreaming  as  her  eyes  rested 
on  the  letters  E.  E.  M.  rudely  cut  in  the  wood,  and 
below  these  were  three  others  with  something  meant 
for  a  true  lover's  knot  between. 


GRANDMA'S   STORY.  7 

"  Whose  initials  are  these  1 "  asked  Min,  scenting  a 
romance  with  girlish  quickness,  for  grandma  was 
smiling  as  if  her  eyes  read  the  title  to  some  little  story 
in  those  worn  letters. 

"Elizabeth  Eachel  Morgan,  and  Joel  Manlius 
Shirley.  Your  blessed  grandfather  cut  our  names 
there  the  day  I  was  sixteen,  and  put  the  flourish 
between  to  show  what  he  wanted,"  added  the  old  lady, 
laughing  as  she  made  the  wheel  hum  again. 

"Tell  about  it,  please  do,"  begged  Min,  remem- 
bering that  grandma  had  been  a  beauty  and  a 
belle. 

"  It 's  a  long  tale,  my  darling,  and  I  could  n't  tell  it 
now.  Sometime  when  I  'm  teaching  you  to  spin  I  '11 
do  it,  maybe." 

But  the  girl  was  determined  to  have  her  story ;  and 
after  tea,  when  the  little  ones  were  in  bed,  the  elders 
playing  whist  in  the  parlor,  and  the  young  folks  de- 
ciding what  game  to  begin,  Minnie  sat  down  and  tried 
to  spin,  sure  that  the  familiar  sound  would  lure 
grandma  to  give  the  lesson  and  tell  the  tale. 

She  was  right,  for  the  wheel  had  not  gone  around 
many  times,  when  the  tap  of  the  cane  was  heard,  and 
the  old  lady  came  rustling  in,  quite  ready  for  a  chat, 
now  that  three  cups  of  her  own  good  tea  and  a  nap  in 
the  chimney  corner  had  refreshed  her. 

"ISTo,  dear,  that's  not  the  way;  you  need  a  dish  of 
water  to  wet  your  ringers  in,  and  you  must  draw  the 
flax  out  slow  and  steady,  else  it  runs  to  waste,  and 
makes  a  poor  thread.  Fetch  me  that  chair,  and  I  'U 
show  you  how,  since  you  are  bent  on  learning." 


8  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

Establishing  herself  in  the  straight-hacked  seat,  a 
skilful  tap  of  the  foot  set  the  wheel  in  swift  and  easy 
motion,  and  the  gray  thread  twisted  fine  and  evenly 
from  the  distaff. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  pretty  picture  1 "  said  Min  to  Lotty,  as 
they  watched  the  old  lady  work. 

"  Not  so  pretty  as  the  one  I  used  to  see  when  my 
dear  mother  sat  here,  and  I,  a  little  child,  at  her  knee. 
Ah,  my  dears,  she  could  have  told  you  stories  all  night 
long,  and  well  worth  hearing.  I  was  never  tired  of 
them." 

"Please  tell  one  now,  grandma.  "We  don't  know 
what  to  play,  and  it  would  be  so  nice  to  sit  around  the 
fire  and  hear  it  this  stormy  night,"  suggested  Min, 
artfully  seizing  the  hint. 

"  Do !  Do  !  We  all  love  stories,  and  we  '11  be  as  still 
as  mice,"  added  Geoff,  beckoning  to  the  others  as  he 
took  the  big  arm-chair,  being  the  oldest  grandson  and 
leader  of  the  flock. 

Camping  on  the  rug,  or  nestling  in  the  sofa  corner, 
the  boys  and  girls  all  turned  expectant  faces  toward 
grandma,  who  settled  her  cap-strings  and  smoothed 
her  spotless  apron,  with  an  indulgent  smile  at  her  little 
audience. 

"  T  don't  know  which  one  to  tell  first." 

"  The  ghost  story ;  that 's  a  splendid  one,  and  most 
of  the  children  never  heard  it,"  said  Walt. 

"  Have  Indians  and  fighting  in  it.  I  like  that 
kind,"  added  Geoff. 

"  No ;  tell  a  love  story.  They  are  so  interesting," 
said  Lotty. 


GRANDMA'S   STORY.  9 

"  I  want  the  story  about  the  initials  first.  I  know 
it  is  very  sentimental.  So  do  begin  with  that, 
grandma,"  begged  Min. 

"  Well,  dears,  perhaps  I  'd  better  choose  that  one, 
for  it  has  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  and  wolves,  and 
spinning,  and  sweethearts  in  it ;  so  it  will  suit  you  all, 
I  hope." 

"  Oh,  lovely !  Do  begin  right  away,"  cried  Minnie, 
as  the  clapping  of  hands  showed  how  satisfactory  the 
prospect  was. 

Grandma  gave  a  loud  "  hem ! "  and  began  at  once, 
while  the  little  wheel  hummed  a  soft  accompaniment 
to  her  words. 

GRANDMA'S  STORY. 

"When  I  was  fifteen,  my  mother  gave  me  this 
wheel,  and  said  :  '  Now,  daughter  Betsey,  it  is  time  for 
you  to  begin  your  wedding  outfit,  for  I  mistrust  you  '11 
marry  young.'  In  those  days  girls  spun  and  wove 
webs  of  fine  linen  and  laid  'em  up  in  chests,  with 
lavender  and  rosemary,  for  sheets  and  table-linen  after 
they  married.  So  I  spun  away,  making  all  manner  of 
fine  plans  in  my  silly  head,  for  I  was  a  pretty  piece, 
they  all  said,  and  young  as  I  was,  two  or  three  fine 
lads  used  to  come  evenings  and  sit  staring  at  me  while 
I  worked. 

"Among  these,  was  my  neighbor  Joel  Manlius 
Shirley,  and  I  was  fond  of  him ;  but  he  had  n't  much 
money,  so  I  put  on  airs,  and  tried  his  patience  very 
much.      One  day  he  came  in  and  said  :  '  Betsey,  I  'm 


10  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

going  a-soldiering ;  they  need  men,  and  I  'm  off.  "Will 
you  think  of  poor  Joe  when  I  'm  gone  1 ' 

"  I  don 't  know  how  I  looked,  but  I  felt  as  if  I 
could  n't  bear  it.  Only  I  was  too  proud  to  show  my 
trouble ;  so  I  laughed,  and  gave  my  wheel  a  twist,  and 
said  I  was  glad  of  it,  since  anything  was  better  than 
hanging  round  at  home. 

"  That  hurt  him ;  but  he  was  always  gentle  to  saucy 
Betsey,  and  taking  out  his  knife,  he  cut  those  letters 
under  mine,  saying,  with  a  look  I  never  could 
forget :  — 

" '  That  will  remind  you  of  me  if  you  are  likely  to 
forget.  Good-by;  I'm  going  right  away,  and  may 
never  come  back.' 

"He  kissed  me,  and  was  off  before  I  could  say  a 
word,  and  then  I  cried  till  my  flax  was  wet  and  my 
thread  tangled,  and  my  heart  'most  broken.  Deary 
me,  how  well  I  remember  that  heavy  day !  " 

Grandma  smiled,  but  something  shone  in  her  old 
eyes  very  like  a  tear,  and  sentimental  Lotty  felt  deeply 
interested  at  this  point. 

"  Where  does  the  fighting  come  in  ? "  asked  Geoff, 
who  was  of  a  military  turn,  as  became  the  descendant 
of  a  soldier. 

"I  didn't  know  or  care  much  about  the  War  of 
1812,  except  as  far  as  the  safety  of  one  man  was  con- 
cerned. Joe  got  on  without  any  harm  till  the  battle  of 
New  Orleans,  when  he  was  nearly  killed  behind  the 
cotton-bale  breastworks  General  Jackson  built." 

"  Yes,  I  know  all  about  it.  Jackson  fought  against 
twelve  thousand,  and  lost  only  seven  men.     That  was 


GRANDMA'S  STORY.  11 

the  last  battle  of  the  war,  January  8,  1815.  Three 
cheers  for  grandpa  !  "  shouted  Geoff,  waving  a  tidy,  as 
no  hat  was  at  hand. 

The  others  echoed  the  hurrah,  and  grandma  beamed 
vith  pride  as  she  went  on  :  "  We  could  n't  get  news 
i'rom  the  army  very  often  in  those  troublous  times,  and 
Joe  was  gone  two  years  before  the  war  ended.  After 
the  great  battle  we  had  no  news  for  a  long  spell,  and 
we  feared  he  was  one  of  the  seven  men  killed.  Those 
were  dreadful  days  for  all  of  us.  My  honored  mother 
was  a  pious  soul,  and  so  was  Mrs.  Shirley ;  and  they 
kept  up  their  hearts  with  hope  and  prayer;  but  I, 
poor  thing,  was  young  and  weak,  and  I  cried  myself 
half  blind,  remembering  how  naughty  I  had  been.  I 
would  spin  no  more,  but  set  the  wheel  away,  saying  I 
should  have  no  need  of  wedding  gear,  as  I  should 
never  marry;  and  I  wore  black  ribbon  on  my  caps, 
and  one  of  Joe's  buttons  strung  about  my  neck,  mourn- 
ing dismally  for  my  lost  dear. 

"  So  the  winter  ended,  and  the  summer  went,  and  no 
news  came  of  Joe.  All  said  he  was  dead,  and  we  had 
prayers  at  church,  and  talked  of  setting  up  a  stone  in 
the  grave-yard,  and  I  thought  my  life  was  done ;  for  I 
pined  sadly,  and  felt  as  if  I  could  never  laugh  again. 
But  I  did ;  for  the  Lord  was  very  good  to  us,  and  out 
of  danger  and  captivity  delivered  that  dear  boy." 

Grandma  spoke  solemnly,  and  folded  her  hands  in 
thanksgiving  as  she  looked  up  at  the  picture  of  the 
handsome  officer  hanging  on  the  wall  before  her.  The 
elder  children  could  just  remember  grandpa  as  a  very 
old  and  feeble  man,  and  it  struck  them  as  funny  to 


12  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

speak  of  him  asa"  dear  boy ; "  but  they  never  smiled, 
and  dutifully  lifted  their  eyes  to  the  queue  and  the 
high-collared  coat,  wondering  if  Joe  was  as  rosy  in  real 
life  as  in  the  portrait. 

"  "Well,  that 's  the  sentimental  part ;  now  comes  the 
merry  part,  and  that  will  suit  the  boys,"  said  the  old 
lady,  briskly,  as  she  spun  away,  —  and  went  on  in  a 
lively  tone  :  — 

"  One  December  day,  as  I  sat  by  that  very  window, 
dreaming  sorrowfully  at  my  sewing  work,  while  old 
Sally  nodded  over  her  knitting  by  the  fire,  I  saw  a 
man  come  creeping  along  by  the  fence  and  dodge  be- 
hind the  wood-pile.  There  were  many  bad  folks 
'round  in  those  times ;  for  war  always  leaves  a  sight  of 
lazy  rascals  afloat,  as  well  as  poor  fellows  maimed  and 
homeless. 

"  Mother  had  gone  over  to  the  sewing  society  at  Mrs. 
Shirley's,  and  I  was  all  alone;  for  Sally  was  so  stiff 
with  rheumatics  she  could  scarce  stir,  and  that  was 
why  I  stayed  to  take  care  of  her.  The  old  musket 
always  hung  over  the  kitchen  chimney-piece,  loaded, 
and  I  knew  how  to  fire  it,  for  Joe  had  taught  me.  So 
away  I  went  and  got  it  down ;  for  I  saw  the  man  pop- 
ping up  his  head  now  and  then  to  spy  the  land,  and  I 
felt  sure  he  meant  mischief.  I  knew  Sally  would  only 
scream  like  a  scared  hen,  so  I  let  her  sleep ;  and  get- 
ting behind  the  shutter  I  pointed  my  gun,  and  waited 
to  blaze  away  as  soon  as  the  enemy  showed  signs  of 
attacking. 

"Presently  he  came  creeping  up  to  the  back  door, 
and  I  heard  him  try  the  latch.     All  was  fast,  so  I  just 


GRANDMA'S   STORY.  13 

slipped  into  the  kitchen  and  stood  behind  the  settle, 
for  I  was  surer  than  ever  he  was  a  rascal  since  I  'd  seen 
him  nearer.  He  was  a  tall  man,  dreadful  shabby  in  an 
old  coat  and  boots,  a  ragged  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  a 
great  beard  hiding  the  lower  part  of  his  face.  He  had 
a  little  bundle  and  a  big  stick  in  his  hands,  and 
limped  as  if  foot-sore  or  lame. 

"  I  was  much  afeard ;  but  those  were  times  that  made 
heroes  of  men,  and  taught  women  to  be  brave  for  love 
of  home  and  country.     So  I  kept  steady,  with  my  eye 
on  the  window,  and  my  finger  on  the  trigger  of  the  old 
gun,  that  had  n't  been  fired  for  years.     Presently  the 
man  looked  in,  and  I  saw  what  a  strange  roll  his  great 
eyes  had,  for  he  was  thin-faced  and  looked  half-starved. 
If  mother  had  been  there,  she  'd  have  called  him  in 
and  fed  him  well,  but  I  dared  not,  and  when  he  tried 
the  window  I  aimed,  but  did  not  fire ;  for  finding  the 
button  down   he  went  away,   and   I  dropped    on  the 
settle,  shaking   like   a   leaf.     All   was   still,  and  in  a 
minute  I  plucked  up  courage  to  go  to  look  out  a  bit ; 
but  just  as  I  readied  the  middle  of  the  kitchen,  the 
buttery  door  opened,  and  there  stood  the  robber,  with 
a  carving  knife  in  one  hand  and  my  best  loaf  of  spice 
bread  i::  the  other.     He  said  something,  and  made  a 
rush  at  me ;  but  I  pulled  the  trigger,  saw  a  flash,  felt 
a   blow,    and   fell    somewhere,    thinking,    <  Now   I  'in 
dead ! ' " 

Here  grandma  paused  for  breath,  having  spoken 
rapidly  and  acted  out  the  scene  dramatically,  to  the 
ntense  delight  of  the  children,  who  sat  like  images  of 
•.nterest,  staring  at  her  with  round  eyes. 


14  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  But  you  were  n't  dead  1  What  next  1 "  cried  Walt, 
eagerly. 

"  Bless  you,  no !  I  only  fell  into  Joe's  arms,  and 
when  I  came  to,  there  the  dear  fellow  was,  crying  over 
me  like  a  baby,  while  old  Sally  danced  round  us  like 
a  bedlamite,  in  spite  of  her  rheumatics,  shouting: 
'Hosanna!  Thanks  and  praise!  He's  come,  he's 
come ! '" 

"Was  he  shot]"  asked  Geoff,  anxious  for  a  little 

bloodshed. 

"  No,  dear  j  the  old  gun  burst  and  hurt  my  hands, 
but  not  a  mite  of  harm  was  done  to  Joe.  I  don't 
think  I  could  tell  all  that  happened  for  a  spell,  being 
quite  dazed  with  joy  and  surprise;  but  by  the  time 
mother  came  home  I  was  as  peart  as  a  wren,  and  Joe 
was  at  the  table  eating  and  drinking  every  mortal 
thing  I  could  find  in  the  house. 

"  He  'd  been  kept  a  prisoner  till  exchanged,  and  had 
had  a  hard  time  getting  home,  with  little  money  and 
a  bad  wound  in  the  leg,  besides  being  feeble  with  jail 
fever.  But  we  did  n't  fret  over  past  troubles,  being  so 
glad  to  get  him  back.  How  my  blessed  mother  did 
laugh,  when  we  told  her  the  reception  I  gave  the  poor 
lad!  But  I  said  it  served  him  right,  since  he  came 
sneaking  home  like  a  thief,  instead  of  marching  in  like 
a  hero.  Then  he  owned  that  he  came  there  to  get 
something  to  eat,  being  ashamed  to  go  in  upon  his 
mother  with  all  her  company  about  her.  So  we  fed 
and  comforted  him;  and  when  we'd  got  our  wits 
about  us,  I  whipped  away  to  Mrs.  Shirley's  and  told 
my  news,  and  every  one  of  those  twenty-five  women 


GRANDMA'S   STOEY.  15 

went  straight  over  to  our  house  and  burst  in  upon  poor 
Joe,  as  he  lay  resting  on  the  settle.  That  was  my 
revenge  for  the  scare  he  gave  me,  and  a  fine  one  it  was ; 
for  the  women  chattered  over  him  like  a  flock  of  mae- 

o 

pies,  and  I  sat  in  the  corner  and  laughed  at  him.  Ah, 
I  was  a  sad  puss  in  those  days !  " 

The  old  lady's  black  eyes  twinkled  with  fun,  and  the 
children  laughed  with  her,  till  Walt  caused  a  lull  by 
asking  :  — 

"  Where  do  the  wolves  come  in,  grandma  1 " 
"  Eight  along,  dear ;  I  'm  not  likely  to  forget  'em, 
for  they  most  cost  me  my  life,  to  say  nothing  of  my 
new  slippers.  There  was  great  rejoicing  over  Joe,  and 
every  one  wanted  to  do  something  to  honor  our  hero  ; 
for  he  had  done  well,  we  found  out,  when  the  General 
heard  his  story.  We  had  a  great  dinner,  and  Judge 
Mullikin  gave  a  supper  ;  but  Major  Belknap  was  bound 
to  outshine  the  rest,  so  he  invited  all  the  young  folks 
over  to  his  house,  nigh  ten  miles  away,  to  a  ball,  and 
we  all  went.  I  made  myself  fine,  you  may  believe, 
and  wore  a  pair  of  blue  kid  slippers,  with  mother's 
best  buckles  to  set  'em  off.  Joe  had  a  new  uniform, 
and  was  an  elegant  figure  of  a  man,  I  do  assure  you. 
He  could  n't  dance,  poor  dear,  being  still  very  lame  : 
but  I  was  a  proud  girl  when  I  marched  into  that  ball- 
room, on  the  arm  of  my  limping  beau.  The  men 
cheered,  and  the  ladies  stood  up  in  chairs  to  see 
him,  and  he  was  as  red  as  my  ribbons,  and  I  could 
hardly  keep  from  crying,  as  I  held  him  up,  — the 
floor  being  slippery  as*  glass  with  the  extra  waxing  it 
had  got- 


16  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  I  declared  I  would  n't  dance,  because  Joe  could  n't ; 
but  he  made  me,  saying  he  could  see  me  better ;  so  I 
footed  it  till  two  o'clock,  soon  forgetting  all  my  sorrow 
and  my  good  resolutions  as  well.  I  wanted  to  show 
Joe  that  I  was  as  much  a  favorite  as  ever,  though 
I  'd  lived  like  a  widow  for  a  year.  Young  folks  will 
be  giddy,  and  I  hope  these  girls  will  take  warning  by 
me  and  behave  better  when  their  time  conies.  There 
may  n't  be  any  wolves  to  sober  'em,  but  trouble  of  some 
sort  always  follows  foolish  actions ;  so  be  careful,  my 
dears,  and  behave  with  propriety  when  you  'come  out/ 
as  you  call  it  nowadays." 

Grandma  held  up  a  warning  forefinger  at  the  girls, 
and  shook  her  head  impressively,  feeling  that  the  moral 
of  her  tale  must  be  made  clear  before  she  went  on. 
But  the  lassies  blushed  a  little,  and  the  lads  looked  all 
impatience,  so  the  dear  old  lady  introduced  the  wolves 
as  quickly  as  she  could. 

"About  half-past  two,  Joe  and  I  drove  off  home 
with  four  fine  hams  in  the  bottom  of  the  sleigh,  sent 
by  the  Major  to  our  mothers.  It  was  a  bitter-cold 
February  night,  with  just  light  enough  to  see  the  road, 
and  splendid  sleighing;  so  we  went  along  at  a  good 
pace,  till  we  came  to  the  great  woods.  They  are  all 
gone  now,  and  the  woollen  mills  stand  there,  but  then 
they  were  a  thick  forest  of  pines,  and  for  more  than 
three  miles  the  road  led  through  them.  In  former 
days  Indians  had  lurked  there  ;  bears  and  foxes  were 
still  shot,  and  occasionally  wolves  were  seen,  when  cold 
weather  drove  them  to  seek  food  near  the  sheep-folds 
and  barn-yards. 


GRANDMA'S   STORY.  17 

"  Well,  we  were  skimming  along  pleasantly  enough, 
I  rather  sleepy,  and  Joe  very  careful  of  me,  when, 
just  as  I  was  beginning  to  doze  a  bit  with  my  head  on 
his  arm  I  felt  him  start.  Old  Buck,  the  horse,  gave  a 
jump  that  woke  me  up,  and  in  a  minute  I  knew  what  the 
trouble  was,  for  from  behind  us  came  the  howl  of  a  wolf. 

"  '  Just  the  night  to  bring  'em  out,'  muttered  Joe, 
using  the  whip  till  Buck  went  at  his  quickest  trot, 
with  his  ears  down  and  every  sign  of  hurry  and  worry 
about  him. 

"  *  Are  you  afraid  of  them  1 '  I  asked,  for  I  'd  never 
had  a  scare  of  this  sort,  though  I'  d  heard  other  people 
tell  of  the  fierceness  of  the  brutes  when  hunger  made 
them  bold. 

"  '  Not  a  bit,  only  I  wish  I  had  my  gun  along/  said 
Joe,  looking  over  his  shoulder  anxiously. 

" l  Pity  I  had  n't  brought  mine  —  I  do  so  well  with 
it,'  I  said,  and  I  laughed  as  I  remembered  how  I  aimed 
at  Joe  and  hurt  myself. 

"  '  Are  they  chasing  us  1 '  I  asked,  standing  up  to 
look  back  along  the  white  road,  for  we  were  just  on 
the  edge  of  the  woods  now. 

" <  Should  n't  wonder.  If  I  had  a  better  horse  it 
would  be  a  lively  race ;  but  Buck  can't  keep  this  pace 
long,  and  if  he  founders  we  are  in  a  fix,  for  I  can't  run, 
and  you  can't  fight.  Betsey,  there  's  more  than  one  ; 
hold  tight  and  try  to  count  'em.' 

"Something  in  Joe's  voice  told  me  plainer  than 
words  that  we  were  in  danger,  and  I  wished  we  'd 
waited  till  the  rest  of  our  party  came  ;  but  I  was  tired, 
and  so  we  had  started  alone. 

2 


18  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

"  Straining  my  eyes,  I  could  see  three  black  spots  on 
the  snow,  and  hear  three  howls  as  the  wolves  came 
galloping  after  us.  I  was  a  brave  girl,  but  I  'd  never 
tried  this  kind  of  thing  before,  and  in  a  minute  all  the 
wolf  stories  I  'd  ever  heard  came  flying  through  my 
mind.  I  ivas  mortally  afeard,  but  I  would  n't  show 
it,  and  turned  to  Joe,  trying  to  laugh  as  I  said  :  '  Only 
three  as  yet.     Tell  me  just  what  to  do,  and  I  '11  do  it.' 

"  '  Brave  lass  !  I  must  see  to  Buck  or  he  '11  be  down, 
for  he  's  badly  scared.  You  wait  till  the  rascals  are 
pretty  close,  then  heave  over  one  of  these  confounded 
hams  to  amuse  'em,  while  we  make  the  most  of  their 
halt.  They  smell  this  meat,  and  that 's  what  they  are 
after,'  said  Joe,  driving  his  best,  for  the  poor  old  horse 
began  to  pant,  and  limp  on  his  stiff  legs. 

"  '  Lucky  for  us  we  've  got  'em,'  says  I,  bound  to  be 
cool  and  gay ;  '  if  we  had  n't,  they  'd  get  fresh  meat 
instead  of  smoked.' 

"Joe  laughed,  but  a  long  howl  close  by  made  me 
dive  for  a  ham ;  for  in  the  darkness  of  the  woods  the 
beasts  had  got  closer,  and  now  all  I  could  see  were 
several  balls  of  fire  not  many  yards  away.  Out  went 
the  ham,  and  a  snarling  sound  showed  that  the  wolves 
were  busy  eating  it. 

" '  All   right ! '    said   Joe.     '  Eest   a   bit,    and    have 

another   ready.     They'll  soon   finish   that   and  want 

•more.     We  must  go  easy,  for  Buck  is  nearly  blown.' 

"I  prepared  my  ammunition,  and,  in  what  seemed 
five  minutes,  I  heard  the  patter  of  feet  behind  us,  and 
the  fiery  eyes  were  close  by.  Over  went  the  second 
mouthful,    and  then  the  third,  and   the   fourth ;  but 


GRANDMA'S   STORY.  19 

they  seemed  more  ravenous  than  ever,  and  each  time 
were  back  sooner  in  greater  numbers. 

"  We  were  nearly  out  of  the  woods  when  the  last 
was  gone,  and  if  Buck  had  only  had  strength  we  should 
have  been  safe.  But  it  was  plain  to  see  that  he  could  n't 
keep  up  much  longer,  for  he  was  very  old,  though  he  'd 
been  a  fine  horse  in  his  prime. 

" '  This  looks  bad,  little  Betsey.  Cover  up  in  the 
robes,  and  hold  fast  to  me.  The  beasts  will  begin  to 
snatch  presently,  and  I  '11  have  to  fight  'em  off,  Thank 
the  powers,  I  've  my  arms  left.' 

"As  he  spoke,  Joe  pulled  me  close,  and  wrapped 
me  up,  then  took  the  whip,  ready  to  rap  the  first  wolf 
that  dared  come  near  enough  to  be  hit.  We  did  n't 
wait  long ;  up  they  raced,  and  began  to  leap  and  snarl 
in  a  way  that  made  my  heart  stand  still,  at  firs't.  Then 
my  temper  rose,  and  catching  up  the  hot  brick  I  had 
for  my  feet,  I  fired  it  with  such  good  aim  that  one 
sharp,  black  nose  disappeared  with  a  yelp  of  pain. 

" '  Hit  'em  again,  Betsey  !  Take  the  demijohn  and 
bang  'em  well.  We  are  nearing  Beaman's,  and  the 
brutes  will  soon  drop  off.' 

"  It  was  a  lively  scrimmage  for  a  few  minutes,  as  we 
both  warmed  to  our  work,  Joe  thrashing  away  with 
his  whip  on  one  side,  and  I  on  the  other  flourishing 
the  demijohn  in  which  we  had  carried  some  cider  for 
the  supper. 

"  But  it  was  soon  over,  for  in  the  fury  of  the  fight 
Joe  forgot  the  horse ;  poor  Buck  made  a  sudden  bolt, 
upset  the  sleigh  down  a  bank,  and,  breaking  loose,  tore 
back  along  the  road  with  the  wolves  after  him. 


20  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  '  Run,  Betsey  !  run  for  your  life,  and  send  Beaman's 
folks  back  !  I  'm  done  for  —  my  leg's  broken.  Never 
mind.  I  '11  crawl  under  the  sleigh,  and  be  all  right 
till  you  come.  The  wolves  will  take  a  good  while  to 
pick  poor  Buck's  bones.' 

"  Just  waiting  to  see  Joe  safe,  I  ran  as  I  never  ran 
before,  —  and  I  was  always  light  of  foot.  How  I  did  it 
I  don't  know,  for  I  'd  forgot  to  put  on  my  moccasins 
(we  did  n't  have  snow-boots,  you  know,  in  my  young 
days),  and  there  I  was,  tearing  along  that  snowy  road 
in  my  blue  kid  slippers  like  a  crazy  thing.  It  was  nigh 
a  mile,  and  my  heart  was  'most  broke  before  I  got  there ; 
but  I  kept  my  eye  on  the  light  in  Hetty's  winder  and 
tugged  along,  blessing  her  for  the  guide  and  comfort 
that  candle  was.  The  last  bit  was  down  hill,  or  I 
could  n't  have  done  it ;  for  when  I  fell  on  the  door- 
step my  voice  was  clean  gone,  and  I  could  only  lie  and 
rap,  rap,  rap  !  till  they  came  flying.  I  just  got  breath 
enough  to  gasp  out  and  point :  — 

"  '  Joe  —  wolves  —  the  big  woods  —  go  ! '  when  my 
senses  failed  me,  and  I  was  carried  in." 

Here  Madam  Shirley  leaned  back  in  her  chair  quite 
used  up,  for  she  had  been  acting  the  scene  to  a  breath- 
less audience,  and  laying  about  her  with  her  handker- 
chief so  vigorously  that  her  eyes  snapped,  her  cheeks 
were  red,  and  her  dear  old  cap  all  awry. 

"  But  Joe  —  did  they  eat  him  1 "  cried  the  boys  in 
great  excitement,  while  the  girls  held  to  one  another, 
and  the  poor  little  wheel  lay  flat,  upset  by  the  blows  of 
the  imaginary  demijohn,  dealt  to  an  equally  imaginary 
wolf. 


GRANDMA'S   STORY.  21 

"  Hardly,  —  since  he  lived  to  be  your  grandfather," 
laughed  the  old  lady,  in  high  feather  at  the  success  of 
her  story. 

"  No,  no,  —  we  mean  the  horse  ;  "  shouted  Geoff, 
while  the  others  roared  at  the  mistake. 

"  Yes,  they  did.  Poor  old  Buck  saved  us,  at  the 
cost  of  his  own  life.  His  troubles  were  over,  but  mine 
were  not ;  for  when  I  came  to,  I  saw  Mr.  Beaman,  and 
my  first  thought  and  word  was  '  Joe  1 '  " 

"  '  Too  late  —  they  'd  got  him,  so  we  turned  back  to 
tell  you,'  said  that  stupid  man. 

"  I  gave  one  cry  and  was  going  off  again,  when  his 
wife  shook  me,  and  says,  laughing  :  '  You  little  goose  ! 
He  means  the  folks  from  the  Major's.  A  lot  came 
along  and  found  Joe,  and  took  him  home,  and  soon  's 
ever  you  're  fit  we  '11  send  you  along,  too.' 

"'I'm  ready  now,'  says  I,  jumping  up  in  a  hurry. 
But  I  had  to  sit  down  again,  for  my  feet  were  all  cut 
and  bleeding,  and  my  slippers  just  rags.  They  fixed 
me  up  and  off  I  went,  to  find  mother  in  a  sad  taking. 
But  Joe  was  all  right ;  he  had  n't  broken  his  leg,  but 
only  sprained  it  badly,  and  being  the  wounded  one  he 
was  laid  up  longer  than  I.  We  both  got  well,  however, 
and  the  first  time  Joe  went  out  he  hobbled  over  to  our 
house.  I  was  spinning  again  then,  and  thought  I  might 
need  my  wedding  outfit,  after  all —  On  the  whole, 
I  guess  we  '11  end  the  story  here ;  young  folks  would  n't 
care  for  that  part." 

As  grandma  paused,  the  girls  cried  out  with  one 
voice  :  "  Yes,  we  do  !  we  like  it  best.  You  said  you 
would.     Tell  about  the  wedding  and  all." 


22  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  Well,  well,  it  is  n't  much.  Joe  came  and  sat  by 
me,  and,  as  we  talked  over  our  adventure,  he  cut  that 
true  lover's  knot  between  the  letters.  I  did  n't  seem 
to  mind,  and  spun  away  till  he  pointed  to  it,  saying, 
with  the  look  that  always  made  me  meek  as  a  lamb, 
'  May  it  stand  so,  my  little  Betsey  ] ' 

"  I  said  '  Yes,  Joe,'  and  then  —  well,  never  mind  that 
bit ;  —  we  were  married  in  June,  and  I  spun  and  wove 
my  wedding  things  afterward.  Dreadful  slack,  my 
mother  thought,  but  I  did  n't  care.  My  wedding  gown 
was  white  lutestring,  full  trimmed  with  old  lace.  Hair 
over  a  cushion  with  white  roses,  and  the  pearl  necklace, 
just  as  you  see  up  there.  Joe  wore  his  uniform,  and 
I  tied  up  his  hair  with  a  white  satin  ribbon.  He  looked 
beautiful,  —  and  so  did  I." 

At  this  artless  bit  of  vanity,  the  girls  smiled,  but  all 
agreed  that  grandma  was  right,  as  they  looked  at  the 
portraits  with  fresh  interest. 

"  I  call  that  a  pretty  good  story,"  said  Walt,  with  the 
air  of  an  accomplished  critic. 

"'Specially  the  wolf  part.  I  wanted  that  longer," 
added  Geoff. 

"  It  was  quite  long  enough  for  me,  my  dear,  and  I 
did  n't  hear  the  last  of  it  for  years.  Why,  one  of  my 
wedding  presents  was  four  hams  done  up  elegantly  in 
white  paper,  with  posies  on  'em,  from  the  Major.  He 
loved  a  joke,  and  never  forgot  how  well  we  fought  with 
the  pigs'  legs  that  night.  Joe  gave  me  a  new  sleigh, 
the  next  Christmas,  with  two  wolf-skin  robes  for  it,  — 
shot  the  beasts  himself,  and  I  kept  those  rugs  till  the 
moths  ate  the  last  bit.     He  kept  the  leavings  of  my 


GRANDMA'S   STORY.  23 

slippers,  and  I  have  them  still.  Fetch  'em,  Minnie  — 
you  know  where  they  are." 

Grandma  pointed  to  the  tall  secretary  that  stood  in  a 
corner,  and  Minnie  quickly  took  a  box  from  one  of  the 
many  drawers.  All  the  heads  clustered  around  grand- 
ma, and  the  faded,  ragged  shoes  went  from  hand  to 
hand,  while  questions  rained  upon  the  story-teller  till 
she  bade  them  go  to  bed. 

Nothing  but  the  promise  of  more  tales  would  appease 
them ;  then,  with  thanks  and  kisses,  the  young  folks 
trooped  away,  leaving  the  old  lady  to  put  the  little 
wheel  to  rights,  and  sit  thinking  over  her  girlhood,  in 
the  fire-light. 


The  storm  kept  on  all  night,  and  next  morning  the 
drifts  were  higher,  the  wind  stronger,  and  the  snow 
falling  faster  than  ever.  Through  the  day  the  children 
roved  ahout  the  great  house,  amusing  themselves  as 
best  they  could  ;  and,  when  evening  came,  they  gath- 
ered around  the  fire  again,  eager  for  the  promised  story 
from  grandmamma. 

"  I've  a  little  cold,"  said  the  old  lady,  "and  am  too 
hoarse  for  talking,  my  dears ;  but  Aunt  Elinor  has 
looked  up  a  parcel  of  old  tales  that  I  've  told  her  at 
different  times  and  which  she  has  written  down.  You 
will  like  to  hear  her  reading  better  than  my  dull  way 
of  telling  them,  and  I  can  help  Minnie  and  Lotty  with 
their  work,  for  I  see  they  are  bent  on  learning  to 
spin." 

The  young  folk  were  well  pleased  with  grandma's 
proposal ;  for  Aunt  Nell  was  a  favorite  with  all,  being 
lively  and  kind  and  fond  of  children,  and  the  only 
maiden  aunt  in  the  family.  Now,  she  smilingly  pro- 
duced a  faded  old  portfolio,  and,  turning  over  a  little 
pile  of  manuscripts,  said  in  her  pleasant  way  :  — 


26  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

"  Here  are  all  sorts,  picked  up  in  my  travels  at  home 
and  abroad ;  and  in  order  to  suit  all  of  you,  I  have  put 
the  names  on  slips  of  paper  into  this  basket,  and  each 
can  draw  one  in  turn.  Does  that  please  my  distin- 
guished audience  1 " 

"  Yes,  yes,  Geoff  's  the  oldest,  let  him  draw  first," 
cried  the  flock,  fluttering  like  a  flight  of  birds  before 
they  settle. 

"Girls  come  first,"  answered  the  boy,  with  a  nod 
toward  the  eldest  girl  cousin. 

Lotty  put  in  her  hand  and,  after  some  fumbling,  drew 
out  a  paper  on  which  was  written,  "  Tabby's  Table-doth" 
"Is  that  a  good  one? "  she  asked,  for  Geoff  looked  dis- 
appointed. 

"  More  fighting,  though  a  girl  is  still  the  heroine," 
answered  Aunt  Nell,  searching  for  the  manuscript. 

"  I  think  two  revolutions  will  be  enough  for  you, 
General,"  added  grandmamma,  laughing. 

"  Do  we  beat  in  both  % "  asked  the  boy,  brightening 
up  at  once. 

"  Yes." 

"  All  right,  then.  I  vote  for  '  Dolly's  Dish-cloth,'  or 
whatever  it  is  ;  though  I  don't  see  what  it  can  possibly 
have  to  do  with  war,"  he  added. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  women  have  their  part  to  play  as 
well  as  men  at  such  times,  and  do  it  bravely,  though 
one  does  not  hear  so  much  about  their  courage.  I  've 
often  wished  some  one  would  collect  all  that  can  be 
found  about  these  neglected  heroines,  and  put  it  in  a 
book  for  us  to  read,  admire,  and  emulate  when  our 
turn  comes." 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  27 

Grandma  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  fire  as  she  spoke, 
and  Lotty  said,  with  her  eye  on  the  portfolio  :  "  Perhaps 
Aunt  Nell  will  do  it  for  us.  Then  history  won't  be 
so  dry,  and  we  can  glorify  our  fore-mothers  as  well  as 
fathers." 

"  I  '11  see  what  I  can  find.  Now  spin  away,  Minnie, 
and  sit  still,  boys,  —  if  you  can." 

Then,  having  settled  grandma's  foot- stool,  and  turned 
up  the  lamp,  Aunt  Nell  read  the  tale  of 

TABBY'S  TABLE-CLOTH. 

On  the  20th  day  of  March,  1775,  a  little  girl  was 
trudging  along  a  country  road,  with  a  basket  of  eggs  on 
her  arm.  She  seemed  in  a  great  hurry,  and  looked 
anxiously  about  her  as  she  went ;  for  those  were  stir- 
ring times,  and  Tabitha  Tarbell  lived  in  a  town  that 
took  a  famous  part  in  the  Revolution.  She  was  a  rosy- 
faced,  bright-eyed  lass  of  fourteen,  full  of  vigor,  courage, 
and  patriotism,  and  just  then  much  excited  by  the  fre- 
quent rumors  which  reached  Concord  that  the  British 
were  coming  to  destroy  the  stores  sent  there  for  safe 
keeping  while  the  enemy  occupied  Boston.  Tabby 
glowed  with  wrath  at  the  idea,  and  (metaphorically 
speaking)  shook  her  fist  at  august  King  George,  being  a 
stanch  little  Rebel,  ready  to  fight  and  die  for  her  coun- 
try rather  than  submit  to  tyranny  of  any  kind. 

In  nearly  every  house  something  valuable  was  hid- 
den. Colonel  Barrett  had  six  barrels  of  powder  ;  Eben- 
ezer  Hubbard,  sixty-eight  barrels  of  flour ;  axes,  tents, 
and  spades  were  at  Daniel  Cray's;  and  Captain  David 


28  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Brown  had  guns,  cartridges,  and  musket  balls.  Can- 
non were  hidden  in  the  woods  ;  fire-arms  were  being 
manufactured  at  Barrett's  Mills  ;  cartouch-boxes,  belts, 
and  holsters,  at  Reuben  Brown's;  saltpetre  at  Josiali 
Melvin's  ;  and  much  oatmeal  was  prepared  at  Captain 
Timothy  Wheeler's.  A  morning  gun  was  fired,  a  guard 
of  ten  men  patrolled  the  town  at  night,  and  the  brave 
farmers  were  making  ready  for  what  they  felt  must  come. 
There  were  Tories  in  the  town  who  gave  the  enemy 
all  the  information  they  could  gather  ;  therefore  much 
caution  was  necessary  in  making  plans,  lest  these  ene- 
mies should  betray  them.  Pass-words  were  adopted, 
secret  signals  used,  and  messages  sent  from  house  to 
house  in  all  sorts  of  queer  ways.  Such  a  message  lay 
hidden  under  the  eggs  in  Tabby's  basket,  and  the  brave 
little  girl  was  going  on  an  important  errand  from  her 
uncle,  Captain  David  Brown,  to  Deacon  Cyrus  Hosmer, 
who  lived  at  the  other  end  of  the  town,  by  the  South 
Bridge.  She  had  been  employed  several  times  before 
in  the  same  way,  and  had  proved  herself  quick-witted, 
stout-hearted,  and  light-footed.  Now,  as  she  trotted 
along  in  her  scarlet  cloak  and  hood,  she  was  wishing 
she  could  still  further  distinguish  herself  by  some  great 
act  of  heroism ;  for  good  Parson  Emerson  had  patted  her 
on  the  head  and  said,  "Well  done,  child!"  when  he 
heard  how  she  ran  all  the  way  to  Captain  Barrett's,  in 
the  night,  to  warn  him  that  Doctor  Lee,  the  Tory,  had 
been  detected  sending  information  of  certain  secret 
plans  to  the  enemy. 

"  I  would  do  more  than  that,  though  it  was  a  fear- 
some run  through  the  dark  woods.     Wouldn't  those 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  29 

two  like  to  know  all  I  know  about  the  stores  1  But  I 
would  n't  tell  'em,  not  if  they  drove  a  bayonet  through 
me.  I'm  not  afeard  of  'em;"  and  Tabby  tossed  her 
head  defiantly,  as  she  paused  to  shift  her  basket  from 
one  arm  to  the  other. 

But  she  evidently  was  -afeard"  of  something  for 
her  ruddy   cheeks  turned  pale  and  her  heart  gave  a 
thump,  as  two  men  came  in  sight,  and  stopped  suddenly 
on  seeing  her.     They  were  strangers  ;  and  though  noth- 
ing in  their  dress  indicated  it,  the  girl's  quick  eye  saw 
that  they  were  soldiers ;  step  and  carriage  betrayed  it 
and  the  rapidity  with  which  these  martial  gentlemen 
changed  into  quiet  travellers  roused  her  suspicions  at 
once.     They  exchanged  a  few  whispered  words;  then 
they  came  on,  swinging  their  stout  sticks,  one  whist- 
ling, the  other  keeping  a  keen  lookout  along  the  lonely 
road  before  and  behind  them. 

"  My  pretty  lass,  can  you  tell  me  where  Mr  Daniel 
Bliss  lives  V  asked  the  younger,  with  a  smile  and  a 
salute. 

Tabby  was  sure  now  that  they  were  British ;  for  the 
voice  was  deep  and  full,  the  nice  a  ruddy  English  face, 
and  the  man  they  wanted  was  a  well-known  Tory' 
But  she  showed  no  sign  of  alarm,  beyond  the  modest 
color  in  her  cheeks,  and  answered  civilly:  "Yes,  sir, 
over  yonder  a  piece." 

*  Thanks,  and  a  kiss  for  that,"  said  the  young  man 
stooping  to  bestow  his  gift.  But  he  got  a  smart  box  on 
the  ear,  and  Tabby  ran  off  in  a  fury  of  indignation. 

With  a  laugh  they  went  on,  never  dreaming  that  the 
little  Rebel  was  going  to  turn  spy  herself,  and  get  the 


30  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

better  of  them.  She  hurried  away  to  Deacon  Hos- 
mer's,  and  did  her  errand,  adding  thereto  the  news  that 
strangers  were  in  town.  "We  must  know  more  of 
them,"  said  the  Deacon.  "  Clap  a  different  suit  on 
her,  wife,  and  send  her  with  the  eggs  to  Mrs.  Bliss. 
We  have  all  we  want  of  them,  and  Tabby  can  look  well 
about  her,  while  she  rests  and  gossips  over  there.  Eliss 
must  be  looked  after  smartly,  for  he  is  a  knave,  and  will 
do  us  harm." 

Away  went  Tabby  in  a  blue  cloak  and  hood,  much 
pleased  with  her  mission ;  and,  coming  to  the  Tory's 
house  about  noon,  smelt  afar  off  a  savory  odor  of  roast- 
ing meat  and  baking  pies. 

Stepping  softly  to  the  back-door,  she  peeped  through 
a  small  window,  and  saw  Mrs.  Bliss  and  her  handmaid 
cooking  away  in  the  big  kitchen,  too  busy  to  heed  the 
little  spy,  who  slipped  around  to  the  front  of  the  house, 
to  take  a  general  survey  before  she  went  in.  All  she 
saw  confirmed  her  suspicions  ;  for  in  the  keeping-room 
a  table  was  set  forth  in  great  style,  with  the  silver  tank- 
ards, best  china,  and  the  fine  damask  teble-cloth,  which 
the  housewife  kept  for  holidays.  Still  another  peep 
through  the  lilac  bushes  before  the  parlor  windows 
showed  her  the  two  strangers  closeted  with  Mr.  Bliss, 
all  talking  earnestly,  but  in  too  low  a  tone  for  a  word 
to  reach  even  her  sharp  ears. 

"  I  will  know  what  they  are  at.  I  'm  sure  it  is  mis- 
chief, and  I  won't  go  back  with  only  my  walk  for  my 
pains,"  thought  Tabby ;  and  marching  into  the  kitchen, 
she  presented  her  eggs  with  a  civil  message  from  Madam 
Hosmer. 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  31 

"  They  are  mighty  welcome,  child.  I  Ve  used  a  sight 
for  my  custards,  and  need  more  for  the  flip.  We  've 
company  to  dinner  unexpected,  and  I  'm  much  put 
about,"  said  Mrs.  Bliss,  who  seemed  to  be  concerned 
about  something  besides  the  dinner,  and  in  her  flurry 
forgot  to  be  surprised  at  the  unusual  gift ;  for  the  neigh- 
bors shunned  them,  and  the  poor  woman  had  many 
anxieties  on  her  husband's  account,  the  family  being 
divided,  —  one  brother  a  Tory,  and  one  a  Eebel. 

"  Can  I  help,  ma'am  %  I  'm  a  master  hand  at  beating 
eggs,  Aunt  Hitty  says.  I  'm  tired,  and  would  n't  mind 
sitting  a  bit  if  I  'm  not  hi  the  way,"  said  Tabby,  bound 
to  discover  something  more  before  she  left. 

"  But  you  be  in  the  way.  We  don't  want  any  help, 
so  you  'd  better  be  steppin'  along  home,  else  suthin'  be- 
sides eggs  may  git  whipped.  Tale-bearers  ain't  wel- 
come here,"  said  old  Puah,  the  maid,  a  sour  spinster, 
who  sympathized  with  her  master,  and  openly  declared 
she  hoped  the  British  would  put  down  the  Yankee 
Rebels  soon  and  sharply. 

Mrs.  Bliss  was  in  the  pantry,  and  heard  nothing  of 
this  little  passage  of  arms  ;  for  Tabby  hotly  resented 
the  epithet  of  "tale-bearer,"  though  she  knew  that  the 
men  in  the  parlor  were  not  the  only  spies  on  the 
premises. 

"  When  you  are  all  drummed  out  of  town  and  this 
house  burnt  to  the  ground,  you  may  be  glad  of  my  help, 
and  I  wish  you  may  get  it.  Good-day,  old  crab-apple," 
answered  saucy  Tabby;  and  catching  up  her  basket, 
she  marched  out  of  the  kitchen  with  her  nose  in  the 


air. 


32  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

But  as  she  passed  the  front  of  the  house,  she  could 
not  resist  another  look  at  the  fine  dinner-table ;  for  in 
those  days  few  had  time  or  heart  for  feasting,  and  the 
best  napery  and  china  seldom  appeared.  One  window 
stood  open,  and  as  the  girl  leaned  in,  something  moved 
under  the  long  cloth  that  swept  the  floor.  It  was  not 
the  wind,  for  the  March  day  was  still  and  sunny,  and 
in  a  minute  put  popped  a  gray  cat's  head,  and  puss  came 
purring  to  meet  the  new-comer  whose  step  had  roused 
her  from  a  nap. 

"  Where  one  tabby  hides,  another  can.  Can  I  dare 
to  do  it  1  What  would  become  of  me  if  found  out  1 
How  wonderful  it  would  be  if  I  could  hear  what  these 
men  are  plotting.     I  will !  " 

A  sound  in  the  next  room  decided  her;  and,  thrust- 
ing the  basket  among  the  bushes,  she  leaped  lightly  in 
and  vanished  under  the  table,  leaving  puss  calmly 
washing  her  face  on  the  window-sill. 

As  soon  as  it  was  done  Tabby's  heart  began  to  flutter  ; 
but  it  was  too  late  to  retreat,  for  at  that  moment  in 
bustled  Mrs.  Bliss,  and  the  poor  girl  could  only  make 
herself  as  small  as  possible,  quite  hidden  under  the  long 
folds  that  fell  on  all  sides  from  the  wide,  old-fashioned 
table.  She  discovered  nothing  from  the  women's  chat, 
for  it  ran  on  sage-cheese,  egg-nog,  roast  pork,  and  lam- 
entations over  a  burnt  pie.  By  the  time  dinner  was 
served,  and  the  guests  called  in  to  eat  it,  Tabby  was 
calm  enough  to  have  all  her  wits  about  her,  and  pride 
gave  her  courage  to  be  ready  for  the  consequences, 
whatever  they  might  be. 

For  a  time  the  hungry  gentlemen  were  too  busy  eat- 


TABBY'S    TABLE-CLOTH.  33 

ing  to  talk  much ;  but  when  Mrs.  Bliss  went  out,  and 
the  flip  came  in,  they  were  ready  for  business.  The 
window  was  shut,  whereat  Tabby  exulted  that  she  was 
inside ;  the  talkers  drew  closer  together,  and  spoke  so 
low  that  she"  could  only  catch  a  sentence  now  and  then, 
which  caused  her  to  pull  her  hair  with  vexation  ■  and 
they  swore  a  good  deal,  to  the  great  horror  of  the  pious 
little  maiden  curled  up  at  their  feet.  But  she  heard 
enough  to  prove  that  she  was  right ;  for  these  men  were 
Captain  Brown  and  Ensign  De  Bernicre,  of  the  British 
army,  come  to  learn  where  the  supplies  were  stored  and 
how  well  the  town  was  defended.  She  heard  Mr.  Bliss 
tell  them  that  some  of  the  "  Rebels,"  as  he  called  his 
neighbors,  had  sent  him  word  that  he  should  not  leave 
the  town  alive,  and  he  was  in  much  fear  for  his  life  and 
property.  She  heard  the  Englishmen  tell  him  that  if 
he  came  with  them  they  would  protect  him ;  for  they 
were  armed,  and  three  of  them  together  could  surely 
get  safely  off,  as  no  one  knew  the  strangers  had  arrived 
but  the  slip  of  a  girl  who  showed  them  the  way.  Here 
"the  slip  of  a  girl "  nodded  her  head  savagely,  and  hoped 
the  speaker's  ear  still  tingled  with  the  buffet  she  gave  it. 

Mr.  Bliss  gladly  consented  to  this  plan,  and  told  them 
he  would  show  them  the  road  to  Lexington,  which  was 
a  shorter  way  to  Boston  than  through  Weston  and  Sud- 
bury, the  road  they  came. 

"  These  people  won't  fight,  will  they?"  asked  Ensign 
De  Bernicre. 

"  There  goes  a  man  who  will  fight  you  to  the  death," 
answered  Mr.  Bliss,  pointing  to  his  brother  Tom,  busy 
in  a  distant  field. 

3 


34  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

The  Ensign  swore  again,  and  gave  a  stamp  that 
brought  his  heavy  heel  down  on  poor  Tabby's  hand,  as 
she  leaned  forward  to  catch  every  word.  The  cruel 
blow  nearly  forced  a  cry  from  her  ;  but  she  bit  her  lips 
and  never  stirred,  though  faint  with  pain.  When  she 
could  listen  again,  Mr.  Bliss  was  telling  all  he  knew 
about  the  hiding  places  of  the  powder,  grain,  and  can- 
non the  enemy  wished  to  capture  and  destroy.  He 
could  not  tell  much,  for  the  secrets  had  been  well  kept ; 
but  if  he  had  known  that  our  young  Rebel  was  taking 
notes  of  his  words  under  his  own  table,  he  might  have 
been  less  ready  to  betray  his  neighbors.  No  one  sus- 
pected a  listener,  however,  and  all  Tabby  could  do  was 
to  scowl  at  three  pairs  of  muddy  boots,  and  wish  she 
were  a  man  that  she  might  fight  the  wearers  of 
them. 

She  very  nearly  had  a  chance  to  fight  or  fly ;  for 
just  as  they  were  preparing  to  leave  the  table,  a  sudden 
sneeze  nearly  undid  her.  She  thought  she  was  lost, 
and  hid  her  face,  expecting  to  be  dragged  out  —  to  in- 
stant death,  perhaps  —  by  the  wrathful  men  of  war. 

"  What 's  that  1 "  exclaimed  the  Ensign,  as  a  sudden 
pause  followed  that  fatal  sound. 

"  It  came  from  under  the  table,"  added  Captain 
Brown,  and  a  hand  lifted  a  corner  of  the  cloth. 

A  shiver  went  through  Tabby,  and  she  held  her 
breath,  with  her  eye  upon  that  big,  brown  hand  ;  but 
the  next  moment  she  could  have  laughed  with  joy,  for 
pussy  saved  her.  The  cat  had  come  to  doze  on  her 
warm  skirts,  and  when  the  cloth  was  raised,  fancying 
she  was  to  be  fed  by  her  master,  puss  rose  and  walked 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  35 

out  purring  loudly,  tail  erect,  with  its  white  tip  waving 
like  a  flag  of  truce. 

"  'T  is  but  the  old  cat,  gentlemen.  A  good  beast,  and, 
fortunately  for  us,  unable  to  report  our  conference,"  said 
Mr.  Bliss,  with  an  air  of  relief,  for  he  had  started  guiltily 
at  the  bare  idea  of  an  eavesdropper. 

"  She  sneezed  as  if  she  were  as  great  a  snuff-taker  as 
an  old  woman  of  whom  we  asked  our  way  above  here,5* 
laughed  the  Ensign,  as  they  all  rose. 

"  And  there  she  is  now,  coming  along  as  if  our  grena- 
diers were  after  her ! "  exclaimed  the  Captain,  as  the 
sound  of  steps  and  a  wailing  voice  came  nearer  and 
nearer. 

Tabby  took  a  long  breath,  and  vowed  that  she  would 
beg  or  buy  the  dear  old  cat  that  had  saved  her  from 
destruction.  Then  she  forgot  her  own  danger  in  listen- 
ing to  the  poor  woman,  who  came  in  crying  that  her 
neighbors  said  she  must  leave  town  at  once,  or  they 
would  tar  and  feather  her  for  showing  spies  the  road 
to  a  Tory's  house. 

"Well  for  me  I  came  and  heard  their  plots,  or  I 
might  be  sent  off  in  like  case,"  thought  the  girl,  feeling 
that  the  more  perils  she  encountered,  the  greater  hero- 
ine she  would  be. 

Mr.  Bliss  comforted  the  old  soul,  bidding  her  stay 
there  till  the  neighbors  forgot  her,  and  the  officers  gave 
her  some  money  to  pay  for  the  costly  service  she  had 
done  them.  Then  they  left  the  room,  and  after  some 
delay  the  three  men  set  off ;  but  Tabby  was  compelled 
to  stay  in  her  hiding-place  till  the  table  was  cleared,  and 
the  women  deep  in  gossip,  as  they  washed  dishes  in  the 


36  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

kitchen.  Then  the  little  spy  crept  out  softly,  and  rais- 
ing the  window  with  great  care,  ran  away  as  fast  as  her 
stiff  limbs  would  carry  her. 

By  the  time  she  reached  the  Deacon's,  however,  and 
told  her  tale,  the  Tories  were  well  on  their  way,  Mr. 
Bliss  having  provided  them  with  horses  that  his  own 
flight  might  be  the  speedier. 

So  they  escaped  ;  but  the  warning  was  given,  and 
Tabby  received  great  praise  for  her  hour  under  the 
table.  The  town's-people  hastened  their  preparations, 
and  had  time  to  remove  the  most  valuable  stores  to 
neighboring  towns  ;  to  mount  their  cannon  and  drill 
their  minute-men ;  for  these  resolute  farmers  meant  to 
resist  oppression,  and  the  world  knows  how  well  they 
did  it  when  the  hour  came. 

Such  an  early  spring  had  not  been  known  for  years  ; 
and  by  the  19th  of  April  fruit  trees  were  in  bloom,  win- 
ter grain  was  up,  and  the  stately  elms  that  fringed  the 
river  and  overarched  the  village  streets  were  budding 
fast.  It  seemed  a  pity  that  such  a  lovely  world  should 
be  disturbed  by  strife ;  but  liberty  was  dearer  than 
prosperity  or  peace,  and  the  people  leaped  from  their 
beds  wbpn  young  Dr.  Prescott  came,  riding  for  his  life, 
with  the  message  Paul  Eevere  brought  from  Boston  in 
the  night  :  — 

"  Arm  !  arm  !  the  British  are  coming  !  " 

Like  an  electric  spark  the  news  ran  from  house  to 
house,  and  men  made  ready  to  fight,  while  the  brave 
women  bade  them  go,  and  did  their  best  to  guard  the 
treasure  confided  to  their  keeping.  A  little  latier,  word 
came  that  the  British  were  at  Lexington,  and  blood  had 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  37 

been  shed.  Then  the  farmers  shouldered  their  guns} 
with  few  words  but  stern  faces,  and  by  sunrise  a  hun- 
dred men  stood  ready,  with  good  Parson  Emerson  at 
their  head.  More  men  were  coming  in  from  the  neigh- 
boring towns,  and  all  felt  that  the  hour  had  arrived 
when  patience  ceased  to  be  a  virtue  and  rebellion  was 
just. 

Great  was  the  excitement  everywhere  ;  but  at  Captain 
David  Brown's  one  little  heart  beat  high  with  hope  and 
fear,  as  Tabby  stood  at  the  door,  looking  across  the  river 
to  the  town,  where  drums  were  beating,  bells  ringing,  and 
people  hurrying  to  and  fro. 

"  I  can't  tight,  but  I  must  see,"  she  said ;  and  catch- 
ing up  her  cloak,  she  ran  over  the  North  Bridge,  promis- 
ing her  aunt  to  return  and  bring  her  word  as  soon  as  the 
enemy  appeared. 

"What  news?  Are  they  coming?"  called  the  people, 
from  the  Manse  and  the  few  houses  that  then  stood 
along  that  road.  But  Tabby  could  only  shake  her  head 
and  run  the  faster,  in  her  eagerness  to  see  what  was  hap- 
pening on  that  memorable  day.  When  she  reached  the 
middle  of  the  town  she  found  that  the  little  company 
had  gone  along  the  Lexington  road  to  meet  the  enemy. 
Nothing  daunted,  she  hurried  in  that  direction  and, 
climbing  a  high  bank,  waited  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
British  grenadiers,  of  whom  she  had  heard  so  much. 

About  seven  o'clock  they  came,  the  sun  glittering  on 
the  arms  of  eight  hundred  English  soldiers  marching 
toward  the  hundred  stout-hearted  farmers,  who  waited 
till  they  were  within  a  few  rods  of  them. 

"  Let  us  stand  our  ground  ;  and  if  we  die,  let  us  die 


38  SPIXXIXG-WHEEL    STORIES. 

here,'*  said  brave  Parson  Emerson,  still  among  his  people, 
ready  for  anything  but  surrender. 

"  Nay,  "said  a  cautious  Lincoln  man,  "  it  will  not  do 
for  us  to  begin  the  war." 

So  they  reluctantly  fell  back  to  the  town,  the  British 
following  slowly,  being  weary  with  their  seven-mile 
march  over  the  hills  from  Lexington.  Coming  to  a  lit- 
tle brown  house  perched  on  the  hillside,  one  of  the 
thirsty  officers  spied  a  well,  with  the  bucket  swinging 
at  the  end  of  the  long  pole.  Running  up  the  bank,  he 
was  about  to  drink,  when  a  girl,  who  was  crouching  be- 
hind the  well,  sprang  up,  and  with  an  energetic  gesture, 
flung  the  water  in  his  face,  crying  :  — 

"  That's  the  way  we  serve  spies  !" 

Before  Ensign  De  Bernicre  — for  it  was  he,  acting  as 
guide  to  the  enemy  —  could  clear  his  eyes  and  dry  his 
drenched  face,  Tabby  was  gone  over  the  hill  with  a 
laugh  and  a  defiant  gesture  toward  the  red-coats  below. 

In  high  feather  at  this  exploit,  she  darted  about  the 
town,  watching  the  British  at  their  work  of  destruction. 
They  cut  down  and  burnt  the  liberty  pole,  broke  open 
sixty  barrels  of  flour,  flung  five  hundred  pounds  of  balls 
into  the  mill-pond  and  wells,  and  set  the  court-house  on 
fire.  Other  parties  were  ordered  to  different  quarters  of 
the  town  to  ransack  houses  and  destroy  all  the  stores 
they  found.  Captain  Parsons  was  sent  to  take  posses- 
sion of  the  North  Bridge,  and  De  Bernicre  led  the  way, 
for  he  had  taken  notes  on  his  former  visit,  and  was  a 
good  guide.  As  they  marched,  a  little  scarlet  figure 
went  flying  on  before  them,  and  vanished  at  the  turn  of 
the  road.    It  was  Tabby  hasteni  ng  home  to  warn  her  aunt. 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  39 

"  Quick  child,  whip  on  this  gown  and  cap  and  hurry 
into  bed.  These  prying  fellows  will  surely  have  pity 
on  a  sick  girl,  and  respect  this  room  if  no  other,"  said 
Mrs.  Brown,  briskly  helping  Tabby  into  a  short  night- 
gown and  round  cap,  and  tucking  her  well  up  when  she 
was  laid  down,  for  between  the  plump  feather-beds  were 
hidden  many  muskets,  the  most  precious  of  their  stores. 
This  had  been  planned  beforehand,  and  Tabby  was  glad 
to  rest  and  tell  her  tale  while  Aunty  Brown  put  physic 
bottles  and  glasses  on  the  table,  set  some  evil-smelling 
herbs  to  simmer  on  the  hearth,  and,  compromising  with 
her  conscience,  concocted  a  nice  little  story  to  tell  the 
invaders. 

Presently  they  came,  and  it  was  well  for  Tabby  that 
the  ensign  remained  below  to  guard  the  doors  while  the 
men  ransacked  the  house  from  garret  to  cellar ;  for  he 
might  have  recognized  the  saucy  girl  who  had  twice 
maltreated  him. 

"  These  are  feathers ;  lift  the  covers  carefully  or 
you  '11  be  half  smothered,  they  fly  about  so,"  said  Mrs. 
Brown,  as  the  men  came  to  some  casks  of  cartridges 
and  flints,  which  she  had  artfully  ripped  up  several 
pillows  to  conceal. 

Quite  deceived,  the  men  gladly  passed  on,  leaving  the 
very  things  they  most  wanted  to  destroy.  Coming  to 
the  bed-room,  where  more  treasures  of  the  same  valua- 
ble sort  were  hidden  in  various  nooks  and  corners,  the 
dame  held  up  her  finger,  saying,  with  an  anxious  glance 
toward  Tabby  :  — 

"  Step  softly,  please.  You  would  n't  harm  a  poor, 
sick  girl.     The  doctor  thinks  it  is  small-pox,  and  a, 


40  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

fright  might  kill  her.  I  keep  the  chamber  as  fresh  as 
I  can  with  yarbs,  so  I  guess  there  is  n't  much  danger 
of  catching  it." 

The  men  reluctantly  looked  in,  saw  a  flushed  face  on 
the  pillow  (for  Tabby  was  red  with  running,  and  her 
black  eyes  wild  with  excitement),  took  a  sniff  at  the 
wormwood  and  motherwort,  and  with  a  hasty  glance  in- 
to a  closet  or  two  where  sundry  clothes  concealed  hid- 
den doors,  hastily  retired  to  report  the  danger  and  get 
away  as  soon  as  possible. 

They  would  have  been  much  disgusted  at  the  trick 
played  upon  them  if  they  had  seen  the  sick  girl  fly  out 
of  bed  and  dance  a  jig  of  joy  as  they  tramped  away  to 
Barrett's  Mills.  But  soon  Tabby  had  no  heart  for  mer- 
riment, as  she  watched  the  minute-men  gather  by  the 
bridge,  saw  the  British  march  down  on  the  other  side, 
and  when  their  first  volley  killed  brave  Isaac  Davis 
and  Abner  Hosmer,  of  Acton,  she  heard  Major  Buttrick 
give  the  order,  "  Fire,  fellow-soldiers ;  for  God's  sake, 
fire  ! " 

For  a  little  while  shots  rang,  smoke  rose,  shouts  were 
heard,  and  red  and  blue  coats  mingled  in  the  stru-r<de 
on  the  bridge.  Then  the  British  fell  back,  leaving  two 
dead  soldiers  behind  them.  These  were  buried  where 
they  fell ;  and  the  bodies  of  the  Acton  men  were  sent 
home  to  their  poor  wives,  Concord's  first  martyrs  for 
liberty. 

No  need  to  tell  more  of  the  story  of  that  day;  all 
children  know  it,  and  many  have  made  a  pilgrimage  to 
see  the  old  monument  set  up  where  the  English  fell, 
and   the  bronze  Minute-Man,  standing  on  his  granite 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  41 

pedestal  to  mark  the  spot  where  the  brave  Concord 
farmers  fired  the  shot  that  made  the  old  North  Bridge 
immortal. 

We  must  follow  Tabby,  and  tell  how  she  got  her  table- 
cloth. When  the  fight  was  over,  the  dead  buried,  the 
wounded  cared  for,  and  the  prisoners  exchanged,  the 
Tories  were  punished.  Dr.  Lee  was  confined  to  his 
own  farm,  on  penalty  of  being  shot  if  he  left  it,  and 
the  property  of  Daniel  Bliss  was  confiscated  by  govern- 
ment. Some  things  were  sold  at  auction,  and  Captain 
Brown  bought  the  fine  cloth  and  gave  it  to  Tabby,  say- 
ing heartily  :  — 

"  There,  my  girl,  that  belongs  to  you,  and  you  may 
well  be  proud  of  it ;  for,  thanks  to  your  quick  wits  and 
eyes  and  ears,  we  were  not  taken  unawares,  but  sent  the 
red-coats  back  faster  than  they  came." 

And  Tabby  ivas  proud  of  it,  keeping  it  carefully,  dis- 
playing it  with  immense  satisfaction  whenever  she  told 
the  story,  and  spinning  busily  to  make  a  set  of  napkins 
to  go  with  it.  It  covered  the  table  when  her  wedding 
supper  was  spread,  was  used  at  the  christening  of  her 
first  boy,  and  for  many  a  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas 
dinner  through  the  happy  years  of  her  married  life. 

Then  it  was  preserved  by  her  daughters,  as  a  relic  of 
their  mother's  youth,  and  long  after  the  old  woman  was 
gone,  the  well-worn  cloth  still  appeared  on  great  occa- 
sions; till  it  grew  too  thin  for  anything  but  careful  keep- 
ing, to  illustrate  the  story  so  proudly  told  by  the  grand- 
children, who  found  it  hard  to  believe  that  the  feeble 
old  lady  of  ninety  could  be  the  lively  lass  who  played 
her  little  part  in  the  Revolution  with  such  spirit. 


42  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

In  1861,  Tabby's  table-cloth  saw  another  war,  and 
made  an  honorable  end.  When  men  were  called  for, 
Concord  responded  "  Here ! "  and  sent  a  goodly  num- 
ber, led  by  another  brave  Colonel  Prescott.  Barretts, 
Hosmers,  Melvins,  Browns,  and  Wheelers  stood  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  as  their  grandfathers  stood  that  day  to  meet 
the  British  by  the  bridge.  Mothers  said,  "  Go  my  son," 
as  bravely  as  before,  and  sisters  and  sweethearts  smiled 
with  wet  eyes  as  the  boys  in  blue  marched  away  again, 
cheered  on  by  another  noble  Emerson.  More  than  one 
of  Tabby's  descendants  went,  some  to  fight,  some  to 
nurse  ;  and  for  four  long  years  the  old  town  worked  and 
waited,  hoped  and  prayed,  burying  the  dear  dead  boys 
sent  home,  nursing  those  who  brought  back  honorable 
wounds,  and  sending  more  to  man  the  breaches  made 
by  the  awful  battles  that  filled  both  North  and  South 
with  a  wilderness  of  graves. 

The  women  knit  and  sewed  Sundays  as  well  as  week- 
days, to  supply  the  call  for  clothes ;  the  men  emptied 
their  pockets  freely,  glad  to  give ;  and  the  minister, 
after  preaching  like'  a  Christian  soldier,  took  off  hi& 
coat  and  packed  boxes  of  comforts  like  a  tender  father. 

"  More  lint  and  bandages  called  for,  and  I  do  believe 
we  've  torn  and  picked  up  every  old  rag  in  the  town," 
said  one  busy  lady  to  another,  as  several  sat  together 
making  comfort-bags  in  the  third  year  of  the  long 
struggle. 

"  I  have  cleared  my  garret  of  nearly  everything  in  it, 
and  only  wish  I  had  more  to  give,"  answered  one  of  the 
patriotic  Barrett  mothers. 

"  We  can't  buy  anything  so  soft  and  good  as  worn- 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  43 

out  sheets  and  table-cloths.  New  ones  wont  do,  or 
I  'd  cut  up  every  one  of  mine,"  said  a  newly  married 
Wheeler,  sewing  for  dear  life,  as  she  remembered  the 
many  cousins  gone  to  the  war. 

"  I  think  I  shall  have  to  give  our  Revolutionary 
table-cloth.  It 's  old  enough,  and  soft  as  silk,  and 
I  'm  sure  my  blessed  grandmother  would  think  that 
it  could  n't  make  a  better  end,"  spoke  up  white-headed 
Madam  Hubbard ;  for  Tabby  Tarbell  had  married  one 
of  that  numerous  and  worthy  race. 

"  Oh,  you  would  n't  cut  up  that  famous  cloth,  would 
you  1 "  cried  the  younger  woman. 

"  Yes,  I  will.  It 's  in  rags,  and  when  I  'm  gone  no 
one  will  care  for  it.  Eolks  don't  seem  to  remember 
what  the  women  did  in  those  days,  so  it's  no  use 
keeping  relics  of  'em,"  answered  the  old  lady,  who 
would  have  owned  herself  mistaken  if  she  could  have 
looked  forward  to  1876,  when  the  town  celebrated  its 
centennial,  and  proudly  exhibited  the  little  scissors 
with  which  Mrs.  Barrett  cut  paper  for  cartridges, 
amoug  other  ancient  trophies  of  that  earlier  day. 

So  the  ancient  cloth  was  carefully  made  into  a  box- 
ful of  the  finest  lint  and  softest  squares  to  lay  on 
wounds,  and  sent  to  one  of  the  Concord  women  who 
had  gone  as  a  nurse. 

"  Here 's  a  treasure  !  "  she  said,  as  she  came  to  it  among 
other  comforts  newly  arrived  from  home.  "  Just  what 
I  want  for  my  brave  Rebel  and  poor  little  Johnny 
Bullard." 

The  "brave  Rebel"  was  a  Southern  man  who  had 
fought  well  and  was  badly  wounded  in  many  ways, 


44  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

yet  never  complained ;  and  in  the  midst  of  great 
suffering  was  always  so  courteous,  patient,  and  cour- 
ageous, that  the  men  called  him  "  our  gentleman,"  and 
tried  to  show  how  much  they  respected  so  gallant  a 
foe.  John  Billiard  was  an  English  drummer-boy,  who 
had  been  through  several  battles,  stoutly  drumming 
away  in  spite  of  bullets  and  cannon-balls ;  cheering 
many  a  camp-fire  with  his  voice,  for  he  sang  like  a 
blackbird,  and  was  always  merry,  always  plucky,  and 
so  great  a  favorite  in  his  regiment,  that  all  mourned 
for  "  little  Johnny  "  when  his  right  arm  was  shot  off 
at  Gettysburg.  It  was  thought  he  would  die;  but 
he  pulled  through  the  worst  of  it,  and  was  slowly 
struggling  back  to  health,  still  trying  to  be  gay,  and 
beginning  to  chirp  feebly  now  and  then,  like  a  con- 
valescent bird. 

"  Here,  Johnny,  is  some  splendid  lint  for  this  poor 
arm,  and  some  of  the  softest  compresses  for  Carrol's 
wound.  He  is  asleep,  so  I  '11  begin  with  you,  and 
while  I  work  I  '11  amuse  you  with  the  story  of  the  old 
table-cloth  this  lint  came  from,"  said  Nurse  Hunt,  as 
she  stood  by  the  bed  where  the  thin,  white  face  smiled 
at  her,  though  the  boy  dreaded  the  hard  quarter  of  an 
hour  he  had  to  endure  every  day. 

"  Thanky,  mum.  We  'ave  n't  'ad  a  story  for  a  good 
bit.  I  'in  'arty  this  mornin',  and  think  I  '11  be  hup 
by  this  day  week,  won't  I  ? " 

"  I  hope  so.  Now  shut  your  eyes  and  listen  ;  then 
you  wont  mind  the  twinges  I  give  you,  gentle  as  I  try 
to  be,"  answered  the  nurse,  beginning  her  painful 
task. 


TABBY'S   TABLE-CLOTH.  45 

Then  she  told  the  story  of  Tabby's  table-cloth,  and 
the  boy  enjoyed  it  immensely,  laughing  out  at  the 
slapping  and  the  throwing  water  in  the  ensign's  face, 
and  openly  rejoicing  when  the  red-coats  got  the  worst 
of  it. 

"  As  we  've  beaten  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  I  don't 
mind  our  'aving  bad  luck  that  time.  We  har'  friends 
now,  and  I  '11  fight  for  you,  mum,  like  a  British  bull- 
dog, if  I  never  get  the  chance,"  said  Johnny,  when  the 
tale  and  dressing  were  ended. 

"  So  you  shall.  I  like  to  turn  a  brave  enemy  into 
a  faithful  friend,  as  I  hope  we  shall  yet  be  able  to  do 
with  our  Southern  brothers.  I  admire  their  courage 
and  their  loyalty  to  what  they  believe  to  be  right ; 
and  we  are  all  suffering  the  punishment  we  deserve 
for  waiting  till  this  sad  war  came,  instead  of  settling 
the  trouble  years  ago,  as  we  might  have  done  if  we 
had  loved  honesty  and  honor  more  than  money  and 
power." 

As  she  spoke,  Miss  Hunt  turned  to  her  other  patient, 
and  saw  by  the  expression  of  his  face  that  he  had 
heard  both  the  tale  and  the  talk.  He  smiled,  and  said, 
"Good  morning,"  as  usual,  but  when  she  stooped  to 
lay  a  compress  of  the  soft,  wet  damask  on  the  angry 
wound  in  his  breast,  he  whispered,  with  a  grateful 
look  :  — 

"  You  have  changed  one  '  Southern  brother '  from  an 
enemy  into  a  friend.  Whether  I  live  or  die,  I  never 
can  forget  how  generous  and  kind  you  have  all  been 
to  me." 

"  Thank  you  !     It  is  worth  months  of  anxiety  and 


46  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

care  to  hear  such  words.  Let  us  shake  hands,  and  do 
our  best  to  make  North  and  South  as  good  friends  as 
England  and  America  now  are,"  said  the  nurse,  offering 
her  hand. 

"  Me,  too  !  I  've  got  one  'and  left,  and  I  give  it  ye 
with  all  me  'art.  God  bless  ye,  sir,  and  a  lively  get- 
ting hup  for  the  two  of  us  ! "  cried  Johnny,  stretching 
across  the  narrow  space  that  divided  the  beds,  with  a 
beaming  face  and  true  English  readiness  to  forgive 
a  fallen  foe  when  he  had  proved  a  brave  one. 

The  three  hands  met  in  a  warm  shake,  and  the  act 
was  a  little  lesson  more  eloquent  than  words  to  the 
lookers-on;  for  the  spirit  of  brotherhood  that  should 
bind  us  all  together  worked  the  miracle  of  linking 
these  three  by  the  frail  threads  spun  a  century  ago. 

So  Tabby's  table-cloth  did  make  a  beautiful  and 
useful  end  at  last. 


"My  turn  now,"  said  Walt,  as  they  assembled 
again,  after  a  busy  day  spent  in  snow-balling,  statue- 
making,  and  tumbling  in  the  drifts  that  still  con- 
tinued to  rise  on  all  sides. 

"Here  is  just  the  story  for  you  and  Geoff.  You 
are  getting  ready  for  college,  after  years  of  the  best 
schooling,  and  it  will  do  you  good  to  hear  how  hard 
some  boys  have  had  to  work  to  get  a  little  learning," 
said  Grandma,  glancing  at  the  slip  that  Walt  drew 
from  the  basket  which  Aunt  Elinor  held  out  to  him, 
and  from  which  Lotty  had  drawn  the  story  ot 
"Tabby's  Table  Cloth." 

"  This  is  a  true  tale,  and  the  man  became  famous 
for  his  wisdom,  as  well  as  much  loved  and  honored 
for  his  virtue,  and  interest  in  all  good  things,"  added 
Aunt  Elinor,  as  she  began  to  read  the  story  of 

ELI'S   EDUCATION. 


Many  years  ago,  a  boy  of  sixteen  sat  in  a  little 
room  in  an  old  farm-house  up  among  the  Connecticut 


48  SPIXXING-WHEEL   STOEIES. 

hills,  writing  busily  in  a  book  made  of  odd  bits  of 
paper  stitched  together,  with  a  cover  formed  of  two 
thin  boards.  The  lid  of  a  blue  chest  was  his  desk,  the 
end  of  a  tallow  candle  stuck  into  a  potato  was  his 
lamp,  a  mixture  of  soot  and  vinegar  his  ink,  and  a 
quill  from  the  gray  goose  his  pen.  A  "  Webster's  Spell- 
ing-book," "Dilworth's  New  Guide  to  the  English 
Tongue,"  "  Daboll's  Arithmetic,"  and  the  "  American 
Preceptor,"  stood  on  the  chimney-piece  over  his  head, 
with  the  "  Assembly  Catechism,"  and  New  Testament, 
in  the  place  of  honor.  This  was  his  library  ;  and  now 
and  then  a  borrowed  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  "Fox's 
Book  of  Martyrs,"  or  some  stray  volume,  gladdened  his 
heart ;  for  he  passionately  loved  books,  and  scoured  the 
neighborhood  for  miles  around  to  feed  this  steadily  in- 
creasing hunger.  Every  penny  he  could  earn  or  save 
went  to  buy  a  song  or  a  story  from  the  peddlers  who 
occasionally  climbed  the  hill  to  the  solitary  farm-house. 
When  others  took  a  noon-spell,  he  read  under  the  trees 
or  by  the  fire.  He  carried  a  book  in  his  pocket,  and 
studied  as  he  went  with  the  cows  to  and  from  the  past- 
ure, and  sat  late  in  his  little  room,  ciphering  on  an  old 
slate,  or  puzzling  his  young  brain  over  some  question 
which  no  one  could  answer  for  him. 

His  father  had  no  patience  with  him,  called  him  a 
shiftless  dreamer,  and  threatened  to  burn  the  beloved 
books.  But  his  mother  defended  him,  for  he  was  her 
youngest  and  the  pride  of  her  heart;  so  she  let  him 
scribble  all  over  her  floors  before  she  scrubbed  them 
up,  dipped  extra  thick  candles  for  his  use,  saved  every 
scrap  of  paper  to  swell  his  little  store,  and  firmly 


ELI'S  EDUCATION.  49 

believed  that  he  would  turn  out  the  great  man  of  the 
family.  His  brothers  joked  about  his  queer  ways,  but 
in  his  sisters  he  found  firm  friends  and  tender  com- 
forters for  all  his  woes.  So  he  struggled  along, 
working  on  the  farm  in  summer  and  in  a  clock  shop 
during  the  winter,  with  such  brief  spells  of  schooling 
as  he  could  get  between  whiles,  improving  even  these 
poor  opportunities  so  well  that  he  was  letter-writer  for 
all  the  young  people  in  the  neighborhood. 

Now,  he  was  writing  in  his  journal  very  slowly,  but 
very  well,  shaping  his  letters  with  unusual  grace  and 
freedom ;  for  the  wide  snow-banks  were  his  copy-books 
in  winter,  and  on  their  white  pages  he  had  learned  to 
sweep  splendid  capitals  or  link  syllables  handsomely 
together.  This  is  what  he  wrote  that  night,  with  a 
sparkle  in  the  blue  eyes  and  a  firm  folding  of  the  lips 
that  made  the  boyish  face  resolute  and  manly. 

"lam  set  in  my  own  mind  that  I  get  learning.  I  see  not 
how,  but  my  will  is  strong,  and  mother  hopes  for  to  make  a 
scholar  of  me.     So,  please  God,  we  shall  do  it." 

Then  he  shut  the  little  book  and  put  it  carefully 
away  in  the  blue  chest,  with  pen  and  ink,  as  if  they 
were  veiy  precious  things ;  piously  said  his  prayers, 
and  was  soon  asleep  under  the  homespun  coverlet, 
dreaming  splendid  dreams,  while  a  great  bright  star 
looked  in  at  the  low  window,  as  if  waiting  to  show 
him  the  road  to  fortune. 

And  God  did  please  to  help  the  patient  lad;  only 
the  next  evening  came  an  opportunity  he  had  never 
imagined.  As  he  sat  playing  "  Over  the  Hills  and  Far 
4 


50  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Away  "  on  the  fiddle  that  he  had  himself  made  out  of 
maple-wood,  with  a  bow  strung  from  the  tail  of  the 
old  farm  horse,  a  neighbor  came  in  to  talk  over  the  fall 
pork  and  cider,  and  tell  the  news. 

"  Ef  you  want  ter  go  over  the  hills  and  far  away,  Eli, 
here  's  the  chance.  I  see  a  man  down  to  Woodtick  who 
was  askin'  ef  I  knew  any  likely  young  chap  who  'd  like 
to  git  'scribers  for  a  pious  book  he  wants  to  sell.  He  'd 
pay  for  the  job  when  the  names  is  got  and  the  books 
give  out.  That 's  ruther  in  your  line,  boy,  so  I  calk'lated 
your  daddy  would  spare  you,  as  you  ain't  much  of  a 
hand  at  shuckin'  corn  nor  cartin'  pummace." 

"Haw!  haw!"  laughed  the  big  brothers,  Ambrose 
Vitruvius  and  Junius  Solomon,  as  neighbor  Terry 
spoke  with  a  sly  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

But  the  sisters,  Miranda  and  Pamela,  smiled  for  joy, 
while  the  good  mother  stopped  her  busy  wheel  to  listen 
eagerly.  Eli  laid  down  his  fiddle  and  came  to  the 
hearth  where  the  others  sat,  with  such  a  wide-awake 
expression  on  his  usually  thoughtful  face  that  it  was 
plain  that  he  liked  the  idea. 

"  I  '11  do  it,  if  father  '11  let  me,"  he  said,  looking  wist- 
fully at  the  industrious  man,  who  was  shaving  axe- 
handles  for  the  winter  wood-chopping,  after  his  day's 
work  was  over. 

"  Wal,  I  can  spare  you  for  a  week,  mebby.  It 's  not 
time  for  the  clock  shop  yet,  and  sence  you  've  heerd  o' 
this,  you  won't  do  your  chores  right,  so  you  may  as 
wal  see  what  you  can  make  of  peddlin'." 

"Thank  you,  sir;  I'll  give  you  all  I  get,  to  pay  for 
my   time,"  began  Eli,  glowing  with    pleasure  at  the 


ELI'S  EDUCATION.  51 

prospect  of  seeing  a  little  of  the  world  ;  for  one  of  his 
most  cherished  dreams  was  to  cross  the  blue  hills  that 
hemmed  him  in,  and  find  what  lay  beyond. 

"Guess  I  can  afford  to  give  you  all  you'll  make 
this  trip,"  answered  his  father,  in  a  tone  that  made 
the  brothers  laugh  again. 

"  Boys,  don't  pester  Eli.  Every  one  has  n't  a  call 
to  farmin',  and  it 's  wal  to  foller  the  leadin's  of  Provi- 
dence when  they  come  along,"  said  the  mother,  strok- 
ing the  smooth,  brown  head  at  her  knee ;  for  Eli  always 
went  to  her  footstool  with  his  sorrows  and  his  joys. 

So  it  was  settled,  and  next  day  the  boy,  in  his 
home-spun  and  home-made  Sunday  best,  set  off  to  see 
his  employer  and  secure  the  job.  He  got  it,  and  for 
three  days  trudged  up  and  down  the  steep  roads,  call- 
ing at  every  house  with  a  sample  of  his  book,  the  Eev. 
John  Flavel's  treatise  on  "  Keeping  the  Heart."  Eli's 
winning  face,  modest  manner,  and  earnest  voice  served 
him  well,  and  he  got  many  names ;  for  books  were 
scarce  in  those  days,  and  a  pious  work  was  a  treasure 
to  many  a  good  soul  who  found  it  difficult  to  keep  the 
heart  strong  and  cheerful  in  troublous  times. 

Then  the  books  were  to  be  delivered,  and,  anxious 
to  save  his  small  earnings,  Eli  hired  no  horse  to  trans- 
port his  load,  but  borrowed  a  stout,  green  shawl  from 
his  mother,  and,  with  his  pack  on  his  back,  marched 
bravely  away  to  finish  his  task.  His  wages  were 
spent  in  a  new  prayer-book  for  his  mother,  smart 
handkerchief-pins  for  the  faithful  sisters,  and  a  good 
store  of  paper  for  himself. 

This  trip  was  so  successful  that  he  was  seized  with 


52  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

a  strong  desire  to  try  a  more  ambitious  and  extended 
one;  for  these  glimpses  of  the  world  showed  him  how 
much  he  had  to  learn,  and  how  pleasantly  he  could 
pick  up  knowledge  in  these  flights. 

"What  be  you  a-brewdin'  over  now,  boy?  Gettin' 
ready  for  the  clock  shop  ?  It 's  'most  time  for  winter 
work,  and  Terry  says  you  do  pretty  wal  at  puttin' 
together,"  said  the  farmer,  a  day  or  two  after  the 
boy's  return,  as  they  sat  at  dinner,  all  helping  them- 
selves from  the  large  pewter  platter  heaped  with  pork 
and  vegetables. 

"I  was  wishin'  I  could  go  South  with  Gad  Upson 
He's  been  twice  with  clocks  and  notions,  and  wants  a 
mate.  Hoadley  fits  him  out  and  pays  him  a  good 
share  if  he  does  well.  Couldn't  I  go  along?  I  hate 
that  old  shop,  and  I  know  I  can  do  something  better 
than  put  together  the  insides  of  cheap  clocks." 

Eli  spoke  eagerly,  and  gave  his  mother  an  imploring 
look  which  brought  her  to  second  the  motion  at  once, 
her  consent  having  been  already  won. 

The  brothers  stared  as  if  Eli  had  proposed  to  go  up 
m  a  balloon,  for  to  them  the  South  seemed  farther  off 
than  Africa  does  nowadays.  The  father  had  evidently 
been  secretly  prepared,  for  he  showed  no  surprise,  and 
merely  paused  a  moment  to  look  at  his  ambitious  son 
with  a  glance  in  which  amusement  and  reproach  were 
mingled. 

"  When  a  hen  finds  she  's  hatched  a  duck's  ego-,  it 's 
no  use  for  her  to  cackle ;  that  ducklin'  will  take  to  the 
water  in  spite  on  her,  and  paddle  off,  nobody  knows 
where.     Go  ahead,  boy,  and  when  you  get  enough  of 


ELI'S  EDUCATION.  53 

junketin'  'round  the  world,  come  home  and  fall  to 
work." 

"  Then  I  may  go  1 "  cried  Eli,  upsetting  his  mug  of 
cider  in  his  excitement. 

His  father  nodded,  being  too  busy  eating  cabbage 
with  a  wide-bladed  green-handled  knife  to  speak  just 
then.  Eli,  red  and  speechless  with  delight  and  grat- 
itude, could  only  sit  and  beam  at  his  family  till  a  sob 
drew  his  attention  to  sister  Pamela,  whose  pet  he  was. 

"  Don't,  Pam,  don't !  I  '11  come  back  all  right,  and 
bring  you  news  and  all  the  pretty  things  I  can.  I 
must  go ;  I  feel  as  if  I  could  n't  breathe,  shut  up  here 
winters.  I  s'pose  it 's  wicked,  but  I  can't  help  it," 
whispered  Eli,  with  his  arm  around  his  buxom  eigh- 
teen-year old  sister,  who  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder 
and  held  him  tight. 

"Daughter,  it's  sinful  to  repine  at  the  ways  of 
Providence.  I  see  a  leadin'  plain  in  this,  and  ef  /  can 
be  chirk  when  my  dear  boy  is  goin',  'pears  to  me  you 
ought  to  keep  a  taut  rein  on  your  feelin's,  and  not 
spile  his  pleasure." 

The  good  mother's  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  she 
spoke,  but  she  caught  up  the  end  of  her  short  gown 
and  wiped  them  quickly  away  to  smile  on  Eli,  who 
thanked  her  with  a  loving  look. 

"  It 's  so  lonesome  when  he  's  not  here.  What  will 
we  do  evenings  without  the  fiddle,  or  Eli  to  read  a 
piece  in  some  of  his  books  while  we  spin  % "  said  poor 
Pam,  ashamed  of  her  grief,  yet  glad  to  hide  her  tears 
by  affecting  to  settle  the  long  wooden  bodkin  that 
held  up  her  coils  of  brown  hair. 


54  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  Obed  Finch  will  be  comin*  along,  I  guess  likely, 
and  he  '11  read  to  you  out  uv  Eli's  book  about  keepin' 
the  heart,  and  you  '11  find  your  'n  gone  'fore  you  know 
it,"  said  Junius  Solomon,  in  a  tone  that  made  pretty 
Pam  blush  and  run  away,  while  the  rest  laughed  at 
her  confusion. 

So  it  was  settled,  and  when  all  was  ready,  the  boy 
came  home  to  show  his  equipment  before  he  started. 
A  very  modest  outfit,  —  only  two  tin  trunks  slung 
across  the  shoulders,  filled  with  jewelry,  combs,  lace, 
essences,  and  small  wares. 

"  I  hate  to  have  ye  go,  son,  but  it 's  better  than  to 
be  mopin'  to  hum,  gettin'  desperut  for  books  and  rilin' 
father.  We  '11  all  be  workin'  for  ye,  so  be  chipper  and 
do  wal.  Keep  steddy,  and  don't  disgrace  your  folks- 
The  Lord  bless  ye,  my  dear  boy,  and  hold  ye  in  the 
holler  of  his  hand  !  " 

Her  own  rough  hand  was  on  his  head  as  his 
mother  spoke,  with  wet  eyes,  and  the  tall  lad 
kissed  her  tenderly,  whispering,  with  a  choke  in  his 
throat : — 

"Good-by,  mammy  dear;  I  '11  remember." 

Then  he  tramped  away  to  join  his  mate,  turning 
now  and  then  to  nod  and  smile  and  show  a  ruddy 
face  full  of  happiness,  while  the  family  watched 
him  out  of  sight  with  mingled  hopes  and  doubts  and 
fears. 

Mails  were  slow  in  those  days,  but  at  length  a 
letter  came ;  and  here  it  is,  —  a  true  copy  of  one 
written  by  a  boy  in  1820:  — 


ELI'S  EDUCATION.  55 

Norfolk,  Va.,  December  4th. 

"  Honored  Parents  :  I  write  to  inform  you  I  am 
safe  here  and  to  work.  Oar  business  is  profitable,  and 
I  am  fast  learning  the  Quirks  and  Turns  of  trade. 
We  are  going  to  the  eastern  shore  of  Va.,  calculating 
to  be  gone  six  weeks.  The  inhabitants  are  sociable 
and  hospitable,  and  you  need  not  fear  I  shall  suffer, 
for  I  find  many  almost  fathers  and  mothers  among 
these  good  folks. 

"  Taking  our  trunks,  we  travel  through  the  coun- 
try, entering  the  houses  of  the  rich  and  poor,  offering 
our  goods,  and  earning  our  wages  by  the  sweat  of  our 
brows.  How  do  you  think  we  look  ]  Like  two  Awk- 
ward, Homespun,  Tugging  Yankee  peddlers  1  No, 
that  is  not  the  case.  By  people  of  breeding  we  are 
treated  with  politeness  and  gentility,  and  the  low  and 
vulgar  we  do  not  seek.  For  my  part,  I  enjoy  travel- 
ling more  than  I  expected.  Conversation  with  new 
folks,  observing  manners  and  customs,  and  seeing  the 
world,  does  me  great  good. 

"I  never  met  a  real  gentleman  till  I  came  here. 
Their  hospitality  allows  me  to  see  and  copy  their  fine 
ways  of  acting  and  speaking,  and  they  put  the  most 
Bashful  at  ease.  Gad  likes  the  maids  and  stays  in  the 
kitchen  most  times.  I  get  into  the  libraries  and  read 
when  we  put  up  nights,  and  the  ladies  are  most  kind 
to  me  everywhere. 

"  I  'm  so  tall  they  can't  believe  I  'm  only  sixteen. 
They  aren't  as  pretty  as  our  rosy-faced  girls,  but 
their  ways  are  elegant,  and  so  are  their  clothes,  tell 
Pam. 


56  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  When  I  think  how  kind  you  were  to  let  me  come, 
I  am  full  of  gratitude.  I  made  some  verses,  one  day, 
as  I  waited  in  a  hovel  for  the  rain  to  hold  up. 

"To  conduce  to  my  own  and  parents'  good, 
Was  why  I  left  my  home  ; 
To  make  their  cares  and  burdens  less, 

And  try  to  help  them  some. 
'T  was  my  own  choice  to  earn  them  cash, 

And  get  them  free  from  debt ; 
Before  that  I  am  twenty-one 

It  shall  be  done,  I  bet. 
My  parents  they  have  done  for  me 
"What  I  for  them  can  never  do, 
So  if  I  serve  them  all  I  may, 

Sure  God  will  help  me  through. 
My  chief  delight,  therefore,  shall  be 

To  earn  them  all  I  can, 
Not  only  now,  but  when  that  I 
At  last  am  my  own  man. 

"  These  are  the  genuine  Sentiments  of  your  son 
who  returns  thanks  for  the  many  favors  you  have 
heaped  upon  him,  and  hopes  to  repay  you  by  his  best 
Endeavors.  Accept  this  letter  and  the  inclosed  small 
sum  as  a  token  of  his  love  and  respect. 

"  Your  dutiful  son, 
"  Tell  the  girls  to  write.  ELI  » 

In  reply  to  this,  came  a  letter  from  the  anxious 
mother,  which  shows  not  only  the  tender,  pious  na- 
ture of  the  good  woman,  but  also  how  much  need  of 
education  the  boy  had,  and  how  well  he  was  doin-  for 
himself:—  ° 


ELI'S   EDUCATION.  57 

"  Affectionate  Son  :  We  was  very  glad  to  receave 
your  letter.  I  feal  very  anctious  about  you  this  win- 
ter, and  how  you  are  a  doing.  You  cannot  know  a 
mother's  concern  for  her  boy  wen  he  is  fur  away.  Do 
not  git  into  bad  habbits.  Take  the  Bible  for  your  rule 
and  guide  to  vartue.  I  pray  for  your  prosperity  in  all 
spiritall  and  temporrall  things,  and  leave  you  in  the  care 
of  Him  who  gave  you  breath  and  will  keep  you  safe. 

"  We  are  all  well,  and  your  father  enjoys  his  helth 
better  than  last  year.  I  visited  Uncle  Medad  a  spell 
last  week.  I  am  provided  with  a  horse  and  shay  to 
ride  to  meat  in.  Mr.  Eben  Welton  took  our  cow  and 
give  us  his  old  horse.  Captain  Stephen  Harrington 
was  excommunicated  last  Sabbath.  Pamely  goes  away 
to  learn  dressmakin  soon.  I  mistrust  Mirandy  will 
take  up  with  Pennel  Haskell ;  he  is  likely,  and  comes 
frequent.  I  wish  you  had  been  here  a  Christmas. 
We  had  a  large  company  to  dinner,  and  I  got  some 
wheat  flower  and  made  a  fine  chicken  pye.  Eli,  I 
hope  you  attend  meatin  when  you  can.  Do  not  trifle 
away  the  holy  day  in  vane  pleasures,  but  live  to  the 
glory  of  God,  and  in  the  fear  of  your  parents.  Father 
sold  the  white  colt.  He  was  too  spirity,  and  upsat 
Ambrose  and  nigh  broke  his  head.  His  nose  is  still 
black.  Dear  son  :  I  miss  you  every  time  I  set  a  plat- 
ter in  your  place.  Is  your  close  warm  and  suffitient  1 
Put  your  stockin  round  your  throat  if  sore.  Do  you 
git  good  cyder  to  drink  1  Take  the  Pennyryal  if  you  feal 
wimbly  after  a  long  spell  of  travil.  The  girls  send 
love.     No  more  now.     Wright  soon. 

"  Your  mother,         Hannah  Gardener." 


58  SPINNIXG-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  P.  S.  — Liddy  Finch  is  married.  Our  pigs  give  us 
nine  hunderd  pound  of  prime  pork." 

Many  such  letters  went  to  and  fro  that  winter,  and 
Eli  faithfully  reported  all  his  adventures.  For  he  had 
many,  and  once  or  twice  was  in  danger  of  losing  his 
life. 

On  one  occasion,  having  parted  from  his  mate  for  a 
day  or  two,  wishing  to  try  his  luck  alone,  our  young 
peddler  found  himself,  late  in  the  afternoon,  approach- 
ing the  Dismal  Swamp.  A  tempest  arose,  adding  to 
the  loneliness  and  terror  of  the  hour.  The  cypresses 
uprooted  by  the  blast  fell  now  and  then  across  the 
road,  endangering  the  poor  boy's  head.  A  sluggish 
stream  rolled  through  tangled  junipers  and  beds  of 
reeds,  and  the  fen  on  either  side  was  full  of  ugly 
creatures,  lizards,  snakes,  and  toads;  while  owls,  scared 
by  the  storm,  flew  wildly  about  and  hooted  dismally. 
Just  at  the  height  of  the  tumult,  Eli  saw  three  men 
coming  toward  him,  and  gladly  hastened  to  meet  them, 
hoping  to  have  their  company  or  learn  of  them  where 
he  could  find  a  shelter.  But  their  bad  faces  daunted 
him,  and  he  would  have  hurried  by  without  speaking 
if  they  had  not  stopped  him,  roughly  demanding  his 
name  and  business. 

The  tall  stripling  was  brave,  but  his  youthful  face 
showed  him  to  be  but  a  boy,  and  the  consciousness  of 
a  well-filled  purse  in  his  pocket  made  him  anxious  to 
escape.  So  he  answered  briefly,  and  tried  to  go  on. 
But  two  men  held  him,  in  spite  of  his  struggles,  while 
the  third  rifled  his  pockets,  broke  open  his  trunks,  and 


ELI'S  EDUCATION.  59 

took  all  that  was  of  any  value  in  the  way  of  watches 
and  jewelry.  Then  they  left  him,  with  a  cruel  joke 
about  a  good  journey,  and  made  off  with  their  booty. 
It  was  the  first  time  poor  Eli  had  met  with  such  a 
mishap,  and  as  he  stood  in  the  rain  looking  at  his 
wares  scattered  about  the  road,  he  felt  inclined  to 
throw  himself  into  the  creek,  and  forget  his  woes  there 
among  the  frogs  and  snakes.  But  he  had  a  stout 
heart,  and  soon  decided  to  make  the  best  of  it,  since 
nothing  could  be  done  to  mend  the  matter.  Gathering 
up  his  bedraggled  laces,  scattered  scent-bottles,  and 
dirty  buttons,  pins,  and  needles,  he  trudged  sadly 
on,  feeling  that  for  him  this  was  indeed  a  Dismal 
Swamp. 

*'I  told  you  we'd  better  stick  together,  but  you 
wanted  to  be  so  dre'dful  smart,  and  go  travellin'  off 
alone  in  them  out  'n  the  way  places.  Might  'a'  known 
you  'd  get  overhauled  somers.  I  always  did  think  you 
was  a  gump,  Eli,  and  now  I  'm  sure  on 't,"  was  all  the 
comfort  Gad  gave  him  when  they  met,  and  the  direful 
tale  was  told. 

"  What  shall  I  do  now  1 "  asked  the  poor  lad.  "  My 
notions  are  n't  worth  selling,  and  my  money  's  gone. 
I'll  have  to  pay  Hoadley  somehow." 

"  You  'd  better  foot  it  home  and  go  to  choppin'  pun- 
kins  for  the  cows,  or  help  your  marm  spin.  I  vow  I 
never  did  see  such  a  chap  for  gettin'  into  a  mess," 
scolded  Gad,  who  was  a  true  Yankee,  and  made  a  suc- 
cessful trader,  even  in  a  small  way. 

"  We  '11  sleep  on  it,"  said  Eli,  gently,  and  went  to 
bed  very  low  in  his  mind. 


60  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

Perhaps  a  few  tears  wet  his  pillow  as  he  lay  awake, 
and  the  prayers  his  mother  taught  him  were  whispered 
in  the  silence  of  the  night ;  for  hope  revived,  comfort 
came,  and  in  the  morning  his  serene  face  and  sensible 
plan  proved  to  his  irate  friend  that  the  "  gump  "  had 
a  wise  head  and  a  manly  heart,  after  all. 

"  Gad,  it  is  just  the  time  for  the  new  almanacs,  and 
Allen  wants  men  to  sell  'em.  I  thought  it  was  small 
business  before,  but  beggars  mustn't  be  choosers,  so 
I  'm  going  right  off  to  offer  for  the  job  'round  here. 
It  will  do  for  a  start,  and  if  I  'm  smart,  Allen  will  give 
me  a  better  chance  maybe." 

"  That 's  a  fust-rate  plan.  Go  ahead,  and  I  '11  say  a 
good  word  for  you.  JUlen  knows  me,  and  books  is  in 
your  line,  so  I  guess  you  '11  do  wal  if  you  keep  out  'n 
the  mashes,"  answered  Gad,  with  great  good  will,  hav- 
ing slept  off  his  vexation. 

The  plan  did  go  well,  and  for  weeks  the  rosy-faced, 
gentle-voiced  youth  might  have  been  seen  mildly  offer- 
ing the  new  almanacs  at  doors  and  shops,  and  at  street 
corners,  with  a  wistful  look  in  his  blue  eyes,  and  a 
courtesy  of  manner  that  attracted  many  customers  and 
earned  many  a  dollar.  Several  mates,  envying  his 
fine  handwriting  and  pitying  his  hard  luck,  took  lessons 
in  penmanship  of  him  and  paid  him  fairly,  whereat  he 
rejoiced  over  the  hours  spent  at  home,  flat  on  the 
kitchen  floor,  or  flourishing  splendid  capitals  on  the 
snow-banks,  when  his  nose  was  blue  with  cold  and  his 
hands  half-frozen. 

When  the  season  for  the  yellow-covered  almanacs 
was  over,  Eli,  having  won  the  confidence  of  his  em- 


ELI'S   EDUCATION.  61 

ployer,  was  fitted  out  with  more  notions,  and  again  set 
forth  on  his  travels,  armed,  this  time,  and  in  company 
with  his  townsman.  Pie  prospered  well,  and  all  winter 
trudged  to  and  fro,  seemingly  a  common  peddler,  but 
really  a  student,  making  the  world  his  book,  and  bent 
on  learning  all  he  could.  Travel  taught  him  geography 
and  history,  for  he  soon  knew  every  corner  of  Virginia; 
looked  longingly  at  the  ancient  walls  of  "William  and 
Mary  College,  where  Jefferson  and  Monroe  studied ; 
where  young  George  Washington  received  his  surveyor's 
commission,  and  in  his  later  years  served  as  Chancel- 
lor. In  Yorktown,  he  heard  all  about  the  siege  of 
1781  ;  saw  Lord  Cornwallis's  lodgings  and  the  cave 
named  for  him  ;  met  pleasant  people,  whose  fine  speech 
and  manners  he  carefully  copied  ;  read  excellent  books 
wherever  he  could  find  them,  and  observed,  remem- 
bered, and  stored  away  all  that  he  saw,  heard,  and 
learned,  to  help  and  adorn  his  later  life. 

By  spring  he  set  out  for  home,  having  slowly  saved 
enough  to  repay  Hoadley  for  the  lost  goods.  But  as  if 
Providence  meant  to  teach  him  another  lesson,  and 
make  him  still  more  prudent,  humble,  and  manly,  a 
sad  adventure  befell  him  on  his  way. 

AVhile  waiting  for  the  coaster  that  was  to  take  them 
home,  he  one  day  went  in  swimming  with  Gad  ;  for 
this  was  one  of  the  favorite  pastimes  of  the  Connecticut 
boys,  who  on  Saturday  nights  congregated  by  the 
score  at  a  pond  called  Benson's  Pot,  and  leaped  from 
the  spring-board  like  circus  tumblers,  turning  somer- 
saults into  the  deep  water  below. 

It  was  too  early  for  such  sport  now ;  the  water  wa3 


62  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

very  cold,  and  poor  Gad,  taken  with  cramp,  nearly 
drowned  Eli  by  clinging  to  his  legs  as  he  went  down. 
Freeing  himself  with  difficulty,  Eli  tried  to  save  his 
friend  ;  but  the  current  swept  the  helpless  man  away, 
and  he  was  lost.  Hurriedly  dressing,  Eli  ran  for  aid, 
but  found  himself  regarded  with  suspicion  by  those  to 
whom  he  told  his  story ;  for  he  was  a  stranger  in  the 
place  and  certain  peddlers  who  had  gone  before  had 
left  a  bad  name  behind  them. 

To  his  horror,  he  was  arrested,  accused  of  murder, 
and  would  have  been  tried  for  his  life,  if  Mr.  Allen  of 
]S"orfolk  had  not  come  to  testify  to  his  good  character, 
and  set  him  free.  Poor  Gad's  body  was  found  and 
buried,  and  after  a  month's  delay,  Eli  set  out  again, 
alone,  heavy-hearted,  and  very  poor,  for  all  his  own 
little  savings  had  been  consumed  by  various  expenses. 
Mr.  Hoadley's  money  was  untouched,  but  not  increased, 
as  he  hoped  to  have  it ;  and  rather  than  borrow  a 
penny  of  it,  Eli  landed  barefooted.  His  boots  were  so 
old  he  threw  them  overboard,  and  spent  his  last  dollar 
for  a  cheap  pair  of  shoes  to  wear  when  he  appeared 
at  home,  for  they  were  not  stout  enough  to  stand 
travel.  So,  like  Franklin  with  his  rolls,  the  lad  ate 
crackers  and  cheese  as  he  trudged  through  the  city, 
and  set  out  for  the  far-away  farm-house  among  the 
hills. 

A  long  journey,  but  a  pleasant  one,  in  spite  of  his 
troubles ;  for  spring  made  the  world  lovely,  habit 
made  walking  no  hardship,  and  all  he  had  seen  in  his 
wanderings  passed  before  him  at  will,  like  a  panorama 
full  of  color  and  variety. 


ELI'S  EDUCATION.  63 

Letters  had  gone  before,  but  it  was  a  sad  home- 
coming, and  when  all  was  told,  Eli  said  :  — 

"  Now,  father,  I  '11  go  to  work.  I  've  had  my  wish 
and  enjoyed  it  a  sight ;  and  would  go  again,  but  I 
feel  as  if  I  ought  to  work,  as  long  as  I  can't  pay  for 
my  time." 

"  That 's  hearty,  son,  and  I  'm  obleeged  to  ye.  Hear 
what  mother's  got  to  say,  and  then  do  whichever  you 
prefer,"  answered  the  farmer,  with  a  nod  toward  his 
wife,  who,  with  the  girls,  seemed  full  of  some  pleasant 
news  which  they  longed  to  tell. 

"  I  've  sold  all  the  cloth  we  made  last  winter  for  a 
good  sum,  and  father  says  you  may  hev  the  spendm' 
on  't.  It  will  be  enough  to  pay  your  board  down 
to  Uncle  Tillotson's  while  you  study  with  him,  so 
's  't  you  kin  be  gettin'  ready  for  college  next  year. 
I  've  sot  my  heart  on  't,  and  you  mus  n't  disapp'int 
me  and  the  girls,"  said  the  good  woman,  with  a  face 
full  of  faith  and  pride  in  her  boy,  in  spite  of  all 
mishaps. 

"  Oh,  mammy,  how  good  you  be !  It  don't  seem 
as  if  I  ought  to  take  it.  But  I  do  want  to  go  !  "  cried 
Eli,  catching  her  round  the  neck  in  an  ecstasy  of 
boyish  delight  and  gratitude. 

Here  Miranda  and  Pamela  appeared,  bringing  their 
homely  gifts  of  warm  hose,  and  hew  shirts  made  from 
wool  and  flax  grown  by  the  father,  and  spun  and  woven 
by  the  accomplished  housewife. 

A  very  happy  youth  was  Eli  when  he  again  set  off 
to  the  city,  with  his  humble  outfit  and  slender  purse, 
though    father  still  looked  doubtful,  and  the  brothers 


64  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

were  more  sure  than  ever  that  Eli  was  a  fool  to  prefer 
dry  books  to  country  work  and  fun. 

A  busy  year  followed,  Eli  studying,  as  never  boy 
studied  before,  with  the  excellent  minister,  who  soon 
grew  proud  of  his  best  pupil.  Less  preparation  was 
needed  in  those  days,  and  perhaps  more  love  and 
industry  went  to  the  work  :  for  necessity  is  a  stern 
master,  and  poor  boys  often  work  wonders  if  the  spark 
of  greatness  is  there. 

Eli  had  his  wish  in  time,  and  went  to  college, 
mother  and  sisters  making  it  possible  by  the  sale  of 
their  handiwork  ;  for  the  girls  were  famous  spinners, 
and  the  mother  the  best  weaver  in  the  country  around. 
How  willingly  they  toiled  for  Eli  !  —  rising  early  and 
sitting  late,  cheering  their  labor  with  loving  talk  of 
the  dear  lad's  progress,  and  an  unfailing  faith  in  his 
future  success.  Many  a  long  ride  did  that  good 
mother  take  to  the  city,  miles  away,  with  a  great  roll 
of  cloth  on  the  pillion  behind  her  to  sell,  that  she 
might  pay  her  son's  college  bills.  Many  a  coveted 
pleasure  did  the  faithful  sisters  give  up  that  they 
might  keep  Eli  well  clothed,  or  send  him  some  country 
dainty  to  cheer  the  studies  which  seemed  to  them 
painfully  hard  and  mysteriously  precious.  Father 
began  to  take  pride  in  the  ugly  duckling  now,  and 
brothers  to  brag  of  his  great  learning.  Neighbors 
came  in  to  hear  his  letters,  and  when  vacation  brought 
him  home,  the  lads  and  lasses  regarded  him  with  a 
certain  awe  ;  for  his  manners  were  better,  his  language 
purer,  than  theirs,  and  the  new  life  he  led  refined  the 
country  boy  till  he  seemed  a  gentleman. 


ELI'S  EDUCATION.  65 

The  second  year  he  yielded  to  temptation,  and  got 
into  debt.  Being  anxious  to  do  credit  to  his  family, 
of  whom  he  was  secretly  a  little  ashamed  about  this 
time,  he  spent  money  on  his  clothes,  conscious  that 
he  was  a  comely  youth  with  a  great  love  of  beauty, 
and  a  longing  for  all  that  cultivates  and  embellishes 
character  and  life.  An  elegant  gentleman  astonished 
the  hill  folk  that  season,  by  appearing  at  the  little 
church  in  a  suit  such  as  the  greatest  rustic  dandy 
never  imagined  in  his  wildest  dreams,  —  the  tall  white 
hat  with  rolling  brim,  Marseilles  vest  with  watch-chain 
and  seals  festooned  across  it,  the  fine  blue  coat  with 
its  brass  buttons,  and  the  nankeen  trousers  strapped 
over  boots  so  tight  that  it  was  torture  to  walk  in 
them.  Armed  with  a  cane  in  the  well-gloved  hand, 
an  imposing  brooch  in  the  frills  of  the  linen  shirt, 
Eli  sauntered  across  the  green,  the  observed  of  all 
observers,  proudly  hoping  that  the  blue  eyes  of  a 
certain  sweet  Lucinda  were  fixed  admiringly  upon 
him. 

The  boys  were  the  first  to  recover  from  the  shock, 
and  promptly  resented  the  transformation  of  their 
former  butt  into  a  city  beau,  by  jeering  openly  and 
affecting  great  scorn  of  the  envied  splendor.  The  poor 
jackdaw,  somewhat  abashed  at  the  effect  of  his  plumes, 
tried  to  prove  that  he  felt  no  superiority,  by  being 
very  affable,  which  won  the  lasses,  but  failed  to  soften 
the  hearts  of  the  boys  ;  and  when  he  secured  the  belle 
of  the  village  for  the  Thanksgiving  drive  and  dance, 
the  young  men  resolved  that  pride  should  have  a 
fall. 

5 


66  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Arrayed  in  all  his  finery,  Eli  drove  pretty  Lucinda 
in  a  smart  borrowed  wagon  to  the  tavern  where  the 
dance  was  held.  Full  of  the  airs  and  graces  he  had 
learned  at  college,  the  once  bashful,  awkward  Eli  was 
the  admired  of  all  eyes,  as  he  pranced  down  the  long 
contra-dance  in  the  agonizing  boots,  or  played  "  thread- 
ing the  needle"  without  the  least  reluctance  on  the 
part  of  the  blushing  girls  to  pay  the  fine  of  a  kiss 
when  the  players  sung  the  old  rhyme  :  — 

"  The  needle's  eye  no  one  can  pass  ; 
The  thread  that  runs  so  true  — 
It  has  caught  many  a  pretty  lass, 
And  now  it  has  caught  you." 

But  his  glory  was  short-lived ;  for  some  enemy 
maliciously  drew  out  the  linchpin  from  the  smart 
wagon,  and  as  they  were  gayly  driving  homeward 
over  the  hills,  the  downfall  came,  and  out  they  both 
went,  to  the  great  damage  of  Eli's  city  suit,  and  poor 
Lucinda's  simple  finery. 

Fortunately,  no  bones  were  broken,  and  picking 
themselves  up,  they  sadly  footed  it  home,  hoping  the 
mishap  would  remain  unknown.  But  the  rogues  took 
care  that  Eli  should  not  escape,  and  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood laughed  over  the  joke  ;  for  the  fine  hat  was 
ruined,  and  the  costly  coat  split  down  the  back,  in  the 
ignominious  tumble. 

Great  was  the  humiliation  of  the  poor  student ;  for 
not  only  was  he  ridiculed,  but  Lucinda  would  not 
forgive  him,  and  the  blue  eyes  smiled  upon  another; 
worst  of  all,  he  had  to  confess  his  debts  and  borrow 


ELI'S   EDUCATION.  67 

money  of  his  father  to  pay  them.  He  meekly  bore 
the  stern  rebuke  that  came  with  the  hard-earned  dol- 
lars, but  the  sight  of  the  tears  his  mother  shed,  even 
while  she  comforted  him,  filled  him  with  remorse.  He 
went  back  to  his  books,  in  a  homespun  suit,  a  sadder 
and  a  wiser  boy,  and  fell  to  work  as  if  resolved  to  wash 
out  past  errors  and  regain  the  confidence  he  had  lost. 

All  that  winter  the  wheels  turned  and  the  loom 
jangled,  that  the  rolls  of  cloth  might  be  increased  ;  and 
never  was  the  day  too  cold,  the  way  too  long,  for  the 
good  mother's  pious  pilgrimage. 

That  summer,  a  man  came  home  to  them,  shabby 
enough  as  to  his  clothes,  but  so  wonderfully  improved 
in  other  ways,  that  not  only  did  the  women  folk  glow 
with  tender  pride,  but  father  and  brothers  looked  at 
him  with  respect,  and  owned  at  last  there  was  some- 
thing in  Eli.  "  No  vacation  for  me,"  he  said ;  "  I 
must  work  to  pay  my  debts ;  and  as  I  am  not  of  much 
use  here,  I  '11  try  my  old  plan,  and  peddle  some  money 
into  my  empty  pockets." 

It  was  both  comic  and  pathetic  to  see  the  shoulders 
that  had  worn  the  fine  broadcloth  burdened  with  a 
yoke,  the  hands  that  had  worn  kid  gloves  grasping 
the  tin  trunks,  and  the  dapper  feet  trudging  through 
dust  and  dew  in  cow-hide  boots.  But  the  face  under 
the  old  straw  hat  was  a  manlier  one  than  that  which 
the  tall  beaver  crowned,  and  the  heart  under  the 
rough  vest  was  far  happier  than  when  the  gold  chain 
glittered  above  it.  He  did  so  well  that  when  he 
returned  to  college  his  debts  were  paid,  and  the  family 
faith  in  Eli  restored. 


68  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

That  was  an  eventful  year ;  for  one  brother  married, 
and  one  went  off  to  seek  his  fortune,  the  father  mortgag- 
ing his  farm  to  give  these  sons  a  fair  start  in  life.  Eli  was 
to  be  a  minister,  and  the  farmer  left  his  fortunes  in  the 
hands  of  his  wife,  who,  like  inany  another  good  mother, 
was  the  making  of  the  great  man  of  the  family,  and  was 
content  with  that  knowledge,  leaving  him  the  glory. 

The  next  year,  Eli  graduated  with  honor,  and  went 
home,  to  be  received  with  great  rejoicing,  just  twenty- 
one,  and  a  free  man.  He  had  longed  for  this  time, 
and  planned  a  happy,  studious  life,  preparing  to  preach 
the  gospel  in  a  little-  parsonage  of  his  own.  But  sud- 
denly all  was  changed ;  joy  turned  to  sorrow,  hope  to 
doubt,  and  Eli  was  called  to  relinquish  liberty  for 
duty,  —  to  give  up  his  own  dreams  of  a  home,  to  keep  a 
roof  over  the  heads  of  the  dear  mother  and  the  faithful 
sisters.  His  father  died  suddenly,  leaving  very  little 
for  the  women  folk  besides  the  independence  that  lay 
in  the  skill  of  their  own  thrifty  hands.  The  elder 
brothers  could  not  offer  much  help,  and  Eli  was  the 
one  to  whom  the  poor  souls  turned  in  their  hour  of 
sorrow  and  anxiety. 

"Go  on,  dear,  and  don't  pester  yourself  about  us. 
We  can  find  food  and  firm  here  as  long  as  the  old 
farm  is  ours.  I  guess  we  can  manage  to  pay  off  the 
mortgage  by-and-by.  It  don't  seem  as  if  I  could  turn 
out,  after  livin'  here  ever  sense  I  was  married,  and 
poor  father  so  fond  on  't." 

The  widow  covered  her  face  with  her  apron,  and  Eli 
put  his  arms  about  her,  saying  manfully,  as  he  gave 
up  all  his  fondest  hopes  for  her  dearer  sake  :  — 


ELI'S   EDUCATION.  G9 

"  Cheer  up,  mother,  and  trust  to  me.  I  should  be 
a  poor  fellow  if  I  allowed  you  and  the  girls  to  want, 
after  all  you  've  done  for  me.  I  can  get  a  school,  and 
earn  instead  of  spend.  Teaching  and  studying  can 
go  on  together.  I  'm  sure-  I  should  n't  prosper  if  I 
shirked  my  duty,  and  I  won't."  The  three  sad  women 
clung  to  him,  and  the  brothers,  looking  at  his  brave, 
bright  face,  felt  that  Eli  was  indeed  a  man  to  lean  on 
and  to  love  in  times  like  this. 

"  Well,"  thought  the  young  philosopher,  "  the  Lord 
knows  what  is  best  for  me,  and  perhaps  this  is  a  part 
of  my  education.  I  '11  try  to  think  so,  and  hope  to 
get  some  good  out  of  a  hard  job." 

In  this  spirit  he  set  about  teaching,  and  prospered 
wonderfully,  for  his  own  great  love  of  learning  made 
it  an  easy  and  delightful  task  to  help  others  as  he  had 
longed  to  be  helped.  His  innocent  and  tender  nature 
made  all  children  love  him,  and  gave  him  a  remarkable 
power  over  them  ;  so  when  the  first  hard  months  were 
past,  and  his  efforts  began  to  bear  fruit,  he  found  that 
what  had  seemed  an  affliction  was  a  blessing,  and  that 
teaching  was  his  special  gift.  Filial  duty  sweetened 
the  task,  a  submissive  heart  found  happiness  in  self- 
sacrifice,  and  a  wise  soul  showed  him  what  a  noble  and 
lovely  work  it  was  to  minister  to  little  children,  —  for 
of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

For  years  Eli  taught,  and  his  school  grew  famous ; 
for  he  copied  the  fashions  of  other  countries,  invented 
new  methods,  and  gave  himself  so  entirely  to  his 
profession  that  he  could  not  fail  of  success.  The  mort- 
gage was  paid  off,  and  Eh  made  frequent  pilgrimages 


0 


SPINXING-WHEEL   STORIES. 


to  the  dear  old  mother,  whose  staff  and  comfort  he 
still  was.  The  sisters  married  well,  the  brothers 
prospered,  and  at  thirty,  the  schoolmaster  found  a 
nobler  mate  than  pretty  Lucinda,  and  soon  had  some 
little  pupils  of  his  very  own  to  love  and  teach. 

There  his  youth  ends  ;  but  after  the  years  of  teach- 
ing he  begau  to  preach  at  last,  not  in  one  pulpit,  but 
in  many  all  over  the  land,  diffusing  good  thoughts  now 
as  he  had  peddled  small  wares  when  a  boy ;  still  learn- 
ing as  he  went,  still  loving  books  and  studying  man- 
kind, still  patient,  pious,  dutiful,  and  tender,  a  wise 
and  beautiful  old  man,  till,  at  eighty,  Eli's  education 
ended. 


1  ^-J/'tfA   ■:    '&W* 


""What  in  the  world  have  I  chosen'?"  exclaimed 
Geoff,  as  he  drew  out  a  manuscript  in  his  turn  and  read 
the  queer  name. 

"  A  story  that  will  just  suit  you,  I  think.  The  hero 
is  an  Indian,  and  a  brave  one,  as  you  will  see.  I  learned 
the  little  tale  from  an  old  woman  who  lived  in  the  val- 
ley of  the  Connecticut,  which  the  Indians  called  the 
Long  River  of  Pines." 

With  this  very  short  preface,  Aunt  Elinor  began  to 
read,  in  her  best  manner,  the  story  of 

OXAAVAXDAH. 

Long  ago, —  when  hostile  Indians  haunted  the  great 
forests,  and  every  settlement  had  its  fort  for  the  pro- 
tection of  the  inhabitants, —  in  one  of  the  towns  on  the 
Connecticut  River,  lived  Parson  Bain  and  his  little  son 
and  daughter.  The  wife  and  mother  was  dead;  but 
an  old  servant  took  care  of  them,  and  did  her  best  to 
make  Reuben  and  Eunice  good  children.  Her  direst 
threat,  when  they  were  naughty,   was,   "The  Indians 


72  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

will  come  and  fetch  yon,  if  you  don't  behave."  So  they 
grew  up  in  great  fear  of  the  red  men.  Even  the 
friendly  Indians,  who  sometimes  came  for  food  or 
powder,  were  regarded  with  suspicion  by  the  people. 
No  man  went  to  work  without  his  gun  near  by.  On 
Sundays,  when  they  trudged  to  the  rude  meeting- 
house, all  carried  the  trusty  rifle  on  the  shoulder ; 
and  while  the  pastor  preached,  a  sentinel  mounted 
guard  at  the  door,  to  give  warning  if  canoes  came 
down  the  river  or  a  dark  face  peered  from  the  wood. 

One  autumn  night,  when  the  first  heavy  rains  were 
falling  and  a  cold  wind  whistled  through  the  valley,  a 
knock  came  at  the  minister's  door,  and,  opening  it,  he 
found  an  Indian  boy,  ragged,  hungry,  and  foot-sore,  who 
begged  for  food  and  shelter.  In  his  broken  way,  he 
told  how  he  had  fallen  ill,  and  been  left  to  die  by  ene- 
mies who  had  taken  him  from  his  own  people,  months 
before  ;  how  he  had  wandered  for  days  till  almost 
sinking ;  and  that  he  had  come  now  to  ask  for  help, 
led  by  the  hospitable  light  in  the  parsonage"  window. 

"  Send  him  away,  master,  or  harm  will  come  of  it. 
He  is  a  spy,  and  we  shall  all  be  scalped  by  the  mur- 
dering Injuns  who  are  waiting  in  the  wood,"  said  old 
Becky,  harshly ;  while  little  Eunice  hid  in  the  old  ser- 
vant's ample  skirts,  and  twelve-year-old  Reuben  laid 
his  hand  on  his  cross-bow,  ready  to  defend  his  sister  if 
need  be. 

But  the  good  man  drew  the  poor  lad  in,  saying,  with 
his  friendly  smile  :  "  Shall  not  a  Christian  be  as  hospi- 
table as  a  godless  savage  1  Come  in,  child,  and  be  fed : 
you  sorely  need  rest  and  shelter." 


ONAWAXDAH.  73 

Leaving  his  face  to  express  the  gratitude  he  had  no 
words  to  tell,  the  boy  sat  by  the  comfortable  fire  and 
ate  like  a  famished  wolf,  while  Becky  muttered  her 
forebodings  and  the  children  eyed  the  dark  youth  at  a 
safe  distance.  Something  in  his  pinched  face,  wounded 
foot,  and  eyes  full  of  dumb  pain  and  patience,  touched 
the  little  girl's  tender  heart,  and,  yielding  to  a  pitiful 
impulse,  she  brought  her  own  basin  of  new  milk  and, 
setting  it  beside  the  stranger,  ran  to  hide  behind  her 
father,  suddenly  remembering  that  this  was  one  of  the 
dreaded  Indians. 

"That  was  well  done,  little  daughter.  Thou  shalt 
love  thine  enemies,  and  share  thy  bread  with  the  needy. 
See,  he  is  smiling  ;  that  pleased  him,  and  he  wishes  us 
to  be  his  friends." 

But  Eunice  ventured  no  more  that  night,  and  quaked 
in  her  little  bed  at  the  thought  of  the  strange  boy 
sleeping  on  a  blanket  before  the  fire  below.  ReubeD 
hid  his  fears  better,  and  resolved  to  watch  while  others 
slept  j  but  was  off  as  soon  as  his  curly  head  touched 
the  pillow,  and  dreamed  of  tomahawks  and  war-whoops 
till  morning. 

Next  day,  neighbors  came  to  see  the  waif,  and  one 
and  all  advised  sending  him  away  as  soon  as  possible, 
since  he  wTas  doubtless  a  spy,  as  Becky  said,  and  would 
bring  trouble  of  some  sort. 

"  When  he  is  wrell,  he  may  go  whithersoever  he 
will ;  but  while  he  is  too  lame  to  w^alk,  weak  with 
hunger,  and  worn  out  with  weariness,  I  will  harbor 
him.  He  cannot  feign  suffering  and  starvation  like 
this.     I  shall  do  my  duty,  and  leave  the  consequences 


74  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

to  the  Lord,"  answered  the  parson,  with  such  pious 
firmness  that  the  neighbors  said  no  more. 

But  they  kept  a  close  watch  upon  Onawandah, 
when  he  went  among  them,  silent  and  submissive,  but 
with  the  proud  air  of  a  captive  prince,  and  sometimes 
a  fierce  flash  in  his  black  eyes  when  the  other  lads 
taunted  him  with  his  red  skin.  He  was  very  lame 
for  weeks,  and  could  only  sit  in  the  sun,  weaving 
pretty  baskets  for  Eunice,  and  shaping  bows  and 
arrows  for  Reuben.  The  children  were  soon  his 
friends,  for  with  them  he  was  always  gentle,  tryiug 
in  his  soft  language  and  expressive  gestures  to  show 
his  good-will  and  gratitude  ;  for  they  defended  him 
against  their  ruder  playmates,  and,  following  their 
father's  example,  trusted  and  cherished  the  homeless 
youth. 

When  he  was  able  to  walk,  he  taught  the  boy  to 
shoot  and  trap  the  wild  creatures  of  the  wood,  to  find 
fish  where  others  failed,  and  to  guide  himself  in  the 
wilderness  by  star  and  sun,  wind  and  water.  To 
Eunice  he  brought  little  offerings  of  bark  and  feathers  ; 
taught  her  to  make  moccasins  of  skin,  belts  of  shells, 
or  pouches  gay  with  porcupine  quills  and  colored 
grass.  He  would  not  work  for  old  Becky,  —  who 
plainly  showed  her  distrust,  —  saying  :  "  A  brave  does 
not  grind  corn  and  bring  wood  ;  that  is  squaw's  wrork. 
Onawaudah  will  hunt  and  fish  and  fight  for  you,  but 
no  more."  And  even  the  request  of  the  parson  could 
not  win  obedience  in  this,  though  the  boy  would  have 
died  for  the  good  man. 

"  We  can  not  tame  an  eagle  as  we  can  a  barnyard 


ONAWANDAH.  75 

fowl.  Let  him  remember  only  kindness  of  us,  find  so 
we  turn  a  foe  into  a  friend,"  said  Parson  Bain,  strok- 
ing the  sleek,  dark  head,  that  always  bowed  before 
him,  with  a  docile  reverence  shown  to  no  other  living 
creature. 

Winter  came,  and  the  settlers  fared  hardly  through 
the  long  months,  when  the  drifts  rose  to  the  eaves  of 
their  low  cabins,  and  the  stores,  carefully  harvested, 
failed  to  supply  even  their  simple  wants.  But  the 
minister's  family  never  lacked  wild  meat,  for  Onawan- 
dah  proved  himself  a  better  hunter  than  any  man  in 
the  town  ;  and  the  boy  of  sixteen  led  the  way  on  his 
snow-shoes  when  they  went  to  track  a  bear  to  its  den, 
chase  the  deer  for  miles,  or  shoot  the  wolves  that 
howled  about  their  homes  in  the  winter  nights. 

But  he  never  joined  in  their  games,  and  sat  apart 
when  the  young  folk  made  merry,  as  if  he  scorned 
such  childish  pastimes  and  longed  to  be  a  man  in  all 
things.  Why  he  stayed  when  he  was  well  again,  no 
one  could  tell,  unless  he  waited  for  spring  to  make  his 
way  to  his  own  people.  But  Reuben  and  Eunice 
rejoiced  to  keep  him  ;  for  while  he  taught  them  many 
things,  he  was  their  pupil  also,  learning  English 
rapidly,  and  proving  himself  a  very  affectionate  and 
devoted  friend  and  servant,  in  his  own  quiet  way. 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  little  daughter  ;  I  shall  be  gone 
but  three  days,  and  our  brave  Onawandah  will  guard 
you  well,"  said  the  parson,  one  April  morning,  as  he 
mounted  his  horse  to  visit  a  distant  settlement,  where 
the  bitter  winter  had  brought  sickness  and  death  to 
more  than  one  household. 


76  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

The  boy  showed  his  white  teeth  in  a  bright  smile 
as  he  stood  beside  the  children,  while  Becky  croaked, 
with  a  shake  of  the  head  :  — 

"  I  hope  you  may  n't  find  you  've  warmed  a  viper 
in  your  bosom,  master." 

Two  days  later,  it  seemed  as  if  Becky  was  a  true 
prophet,  and  that  the  confiding  minister  had  been 
terribly  deceived  ;  for  Onawandah  went  away  to  hunt, 
and  that  night  the  awful  war-whoop  woke  the  sleep- 
ing villagers,  to  find  their  houses  burning,  while  the 
hidden  Indians  shot  at  them  by  the  light  of  the  fires 
kindled  by  dusky  scouts.  In  terror  and  confusion  the 
whites  flew  to  the  fort ;  and,  while  the  men  fought 
bravely,  the  women  held  blankets  to  catch  arrows  and 
bullets,  or  bound  up  the  hurts  of  their  defenders. 

It  was  all  over  by  daylight,  and  the  red  men  sped 
away  up  the  river,  with  several  prisoners,  and  such 
booty  as  they  could  plunder  from  the  deserted  houses. 
Not  till  all  fear  of  a  return  of  their  enemies  was  over, 
did  the  poor  people  venture  to  leave  the  fort  and  seek 
their  ruined  homes.  Then  it  was  discovered  that  Becky 
and  the  parson's  children  were  gone,  and  great  was 
the  bewailing,  for  the  good  man  was  much  beloved  by 
all  his  flock. 

Suddenly  the  smothered  voice  of  Becky  was  heard 
by  a  party  of  visitors,  calling  dolefully  :  — 

"  I  am  here,  betwixt  the  beds.  Pull  me  out,  neigh- 
bors, for  I  am  half  dead  with  fright  and  smothering." 

The  old  woman  was  quickly  extricated  from  her 
hiding-place,  and  with  much  energy  declared  that 
she  had   seen  Onawandah,  disguised    with  war-paint, 


ON  A  WAND  AH.  77 

among  the  Indians,  and  that  he  had  torn  away  the 
children  from  her  arms  before  she  could  fly  from  the 
house. 

"  He  chose  his  time  well,  when  they  were  defence- 
less, dear  lambs !  Spite  of  all  my  warnings,  master 
trusted  him,  and  this  is  the  thanks  we  get.  Oh, 
my  poor  master!  How  can  I  tell  him  this  heavy 
news'?" 

There  was  no  need  to  tell  it;  for,  as  Becky  sat 
moaning  and  beating  her  breast  on  the  fireless  hearth, 
and  the  sympathizing  neighbors  stood  about  her,  the 
sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  was  heard,  and  the  parson 
came  down  the  hilly  road  like  one  riding  for  his  life. 
He  had  seen  the  smoke  afar  off,  guessed  the  sad  truth, 
and  hurried  on,  to  find  his  home  in  ruins,  and  to  learn 
by  his  first  glance  at  the  faces  around  him  that  his 
children  were  gone. 

When  he  had  heard  all  there  was  to  tell,  he  sat 
down  upon  his  door-stone  with  his  head  in  his  hands, 
praying  for  strength  to  bear  a  grief  too  deep  for  words. 
The  wounded  and  weary  men  tried  to  comfort  him 
with  hope,  and  the  women  wept  with  him  as  they 
hugged  their  own  babies  closer  to  the  hearts  that 
ached  for  the  lost  children.  Suddenly  a  stir  went 
through  the  mournful  group,  as  Onawandah  came 
from  the  wood  with  a  young  deer  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  amazement  in  his  face  as  he  saw  the  desolation 
before  him.  Dropping  his  burden,  he  stood  an  instant 
looking  with  eyes  that  kindled  fiercely ;  then  he  came 
bounding  toward  them,  undaunted  by  the  hatred,  sus- 
picion, and  surprise  plainly  written  on  the  countenances 


78  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

before  him.  He  missed  his  playmates,  and  asked  but 
one  question  :  — 

"  The  boy,  the  little  squaw,  —  where  gone  % " 

His  answer  was  a  rough  one,  for  the  men  seized 
him  and  poured  forth  the  tale,  heaping  reproaches 
upon  him  for  such  treachery  and  ingratitude.  He 
bore  it  all  in  proud  silence  till  they  pointed  to  the 
poor  father,  whose  dumb  sorrow  was  more  eloquent 
than  all  their  wrath.  Onawandah  looked  at  him,  and 
the  fire  died  out  of  his  eyes  as  if  quenched  by  the 
tears  he  would  not  shed.  Shaking  off  the  hands  that 
held  him,  he  went  to  his  good  friend,  saying  with 
passionate  earnestness  :  — 

"  Onawandah  is  not  traitor  !  Onawandah  remem- 
bers !     Onawandah  grateful !     You  believe  1 " 

The  poor  parson  looked  up  at  him,  and  could  not 
doubt  his  truth ;  for  genuine  love  and  sorrow  enno- 
bled the  dark  face,  and  he  had  never  known  the  boy 
to  lie. 

"  I  believe  and  trust  you  still,  but  others  will  not. 
Go,  you  are  no  longer  safe  here,  and  I  have  no  home 
to  offer  you,"  said  the  parson,  sadly,  feeling  that  he 
cared  for  none,  unless  his  children  were  restored 
to  him. 

"  Onawandah  has  no  fear.  He  goes  ;  but  he  comes 
again  to  bring  the  boy,  the  little  squaw." 

Few  words,  but  they  were  so  solemnly  spoken  that 
the  most  unbelieving  were  impressed ;  for  the  youth 
laid  one  hand  on  the  gray  head  bowed  before  him, 
and  lifted  the  other  toward  heaven,  as  if  calling  the 
Great  Spirit  to  hear  his  vow. 


ONAWANDAH.  79 

A  relenting  murmur  went  through  the  crowd,  but 
the  boy  paid  no  heed,  as  he  turned  away,  and  with 
no  arms  but  his  hunting  knife  and  bow,  no  food  but 
such  as  he  could  find,  no  guide  but  the  sun  by  day, 
the  stars  by  night,  plunged  into  the  pathless  forest 
and  was  gone. 

Then  the  people  drew  a  long  breath,  and  muttered 
to  one  another  :  — 

"  He  will  never  do  it,  yet  he  is  a  brave  lad  for  his 
years." 

"Only  a  shift  to  get  off  with  a  whole  skin,  I 
warrant  you.  These  varlets  are  as  cunning  as  foxes,'* 
added  Becky,  sourly. 

The  parson  alone  believed  and  hoped,  though  weeks 
and  months  went  by,  and  his  children  did  not  come. 

Meantime,  Reuben  and  Eunice  were  far  away  in 
an  Indian  camp,  resting  as  best  they  could,  after  the 
long  journey  that  followed  that  dreadful  night.  Their 
captors  were  not  cruel  to  them,  for  Reuben  was  a 
stout  fellow,  and,  thanks  to  Onawandah,  could  hold 
his  own  with  the  boys  who  would  have  tormented  him 
if  he  had  been  feeble  or  cowardly.  Eunice  also  was  a 
hardy  creature  for  her  years,  and  when  her  first 
fright  and  fatigue  were  over,  macle  herself  useful  in 
many  ways  among  the  squaws,  who  did  not  let  the 
pretty  child  suffer  greatly  ;  though  she  was  neglected, 
because  they  knew  no  better. 

Life  in  a  wigwam  was  not  a  life  of  ease,  and  fortu- 
nately the  children  were  accustomed  to  simple  habits 
and  the  hardships  that  all  endured   in   those   early 


80  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

times.  But  they  mourned  for  home  till  their  young 
faces  were  pathetic  with  the  longing,  and  their  pil- 
lows of  dry  leaves  were  often  wet  with  tears  in  the 
night.  Their  clothes  grew  ragged,  their  hair  unkempt, 
their  faces  tanned  by  sun  and  wind.  Scanty  food  and 
exposure  to  all  weathers  tried  the  strength  of  their 
bodies,  and  uncertainty  as  to  their  fate  saddened  their 
spirits ;  yet  they  bore  up  bravely,  and  said  their 
prayers  faithfully,  feeling  sure  that  God  would  bring 
them  home  to  father  in  His  own  good  time. 

One  day,  when  Reuben  was  snaring  birds  in  the 
wood,  —  for  the  Indians  had  no  fear  of  such  young 
children  venturing  to  escape,  —  he  heard  the  cry  of  a 
quail,  and  followed  it  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
forest,  till  it  ceased,  and,  with  a  sudden  rustle, 
Onawandah  rose  up  from  the  brakes,  his  finger  on 
his  lips  to  prevent  any  exclamation  that  might  betray 
him  to  other  ears  and  eyes. 

"  I  come  for  you  and  little  Laroka "  (the  name  he 
gave  Eunice,  meaning  "  Wild  Rose").  "  I  take  you 
home.     Not  know  me  yet.     Go  and  wait." 

He  spoke  low  and  fast ;  but  the  joy  in  his  face  told 
how  glad  he  was  to  find  the  boy  after  his  long  search, 
and  Reuben  clung  to  him,  trying  not  to  disgrace  himself 
by  crying  like  a  girl,  in  his  surprise  and  delight. 

Lying  hidden  in  the  tall  brakes  they  talked  in  whis- 
pers, while  one  told  of  the  capture,  and  the  other  of  a 
plan  of  escape ;  for,  though  a  friendly  tribe,  these  In- 
dians were  not  Onawandah's  people,  and  they  must  not 
suspect  that  he  knew  the  children,  else  they  might  be 
separated  at  once. 


OXAWAXDAH.  81 

"  Little  squaw  betray  me.  You  watch  her.  Tell 
her  not  to  cry  out,  not  speak  me  any  time.  When  I 
say  come,  we  go  —  fast  —  in  the  night.  Not  ready 
jet." 

These  were  the  orders  Beuben  received,  and,  when 
he  could  compose  himself,  he  went  back  to  the  wigwams, 
leaving  his  friend  in  the  wood,  while  he  told  the  good 
news  to  Eunice,  and  prepared  her  for  the  part  she  must 
play. 

Fear  had  taught  her  self-control,  and  the  poor  child 
stood  the  test  well,  working  off  her  relief  and  rapture 
by  pounding  corn  on  the  stone  mortar  till  her  little 
hands  were  blistered,  and  her  arms  ached  for  hours 
afterward. 

Not  till  the  next  day  did  Onawandah  make  his  ap- 
pearance, and  then  he  came  limping  into  the  village, 
weary,  lame,  and  half  starved,  after  his  long  wandering 
in  the  wilderness.  He  was  kindly  welcomed,  and  his 
story  believed  ;  for  he  told  only  the  first  part,  and  said 
nothing  of  his  life  among  the  white  men.  He  hardly 
glanced  at  the  children  when  they  were  pointed  out  to 
him  by  their  captors,  and  scowled  at  poor  Eunice,  who 
forgot  her  part  in  her  joy,  ana  smiled  as  she  met  the 
dark  eyes  that  till  now  had  always  looked  kindly  at 
her.  A  touch  from  Reuben  warned  her,  and  she  was 
glad  to  hide  her  confusion  by  shaking  her  long  hair 
over  her  face,  as  if  afraid  of  the  stranger. 

Onawandah  took  no  further  notice  of  them,  but 
seemed  to  be  very  lame  with  the  old  wound  in  his  foot, 
which  prevented  his  being  obliged  to  hunt  with  the 
men.     He  was  resting  and  slowly  gathering  strength 

6 


82  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

for  the  hard  task  he  had  set  himself,  while  he  waited 
for  a  safe  time  to  save  the  children.  They  understood, 
but  the  suspense  proved  too  much  for  little  Eunice,  and 
she  pined  with  impatience  to  be  gone.  She  lost  appe- 
tite and  color,  and  cast  such  appealing  glances  at  Ona- 
wandah,  that  he  could  not  seem  quite  indifferent,  and 
gave  her  a  soft  word  now  and  then,  or  did  such  acts 
of  kindness  as  he  could  perform  unsuspected.  When 
she  lay  awake  at  night  thinking  of  home,  a  cricket 
would  chirp  outside  the  wigwam,  and  a  hand  slip  in  a 
leaf  full  of  berries,  or  a  bark-cup  of  fresh  water  for 
the  feverish  little  mouth.  Sometimes  it  was  only  a 
caress  or  a  whisper  of  encouragement,  that  re-assured 
the  childish  heart,  and  sent  her  to  sleep  with  a  com- 
fortable sense  of  love  and  protection,  like  a  sheltering 
wing  over  a  motherless  bird. 

Reuben  stood  it  better,  and  entered  heartily  into  the 
excitement  of  the  plot ;  for  he  had  grown  tall  and  strong 
in  these  trying  months,  and  felt  that  he  must  prove 
himself  a  man  to  sustain  and  defend  his  sister.  Qui- 
etly he  put  away  each  day  a  bit  of  dried  meat,  a  hand- 
ful of  parched  corn,  or  a  well-sharpened  arrowhead,  as 
provision  for  the  journey;  while  Onawandah  seemed 
to  be  amusing  himself  with  making  moccasins  and  a 
little  vest  of  deer-skin  for  an  Indian  child  about  the 
age  of  Eunice. 

At  last,  in  the  early  autumn,  all  the  men  went  off  on 
the  war-path,  leaving  only  boys  and  women  behind. 
Then  Onawandah's  eyes  began  to  kindle,  and  Reuben's 
heart  to  beat  fast,  for  both  felt  that  their  time  for 
escape  had  come. 


ONAWANDAH.  83 

All  was  ready,  and  one  moonless  night  the  signal 
was  given.  A  cricket  chirped  shrilly  outside  the  tent 
where  the  children  slept  with  one  old  squaw.  A  strong 
hand  cut  the  skin  beside  their  bed  of  fir-boughs,  and 
two  trembling  creatures  crept  out  to  follow  the  tall 
shadow  that  flitted  noiselessly  before  them  into  the 
darkness  of  the  wood.  Not  a  broken  twig,  a  careless 
step,  or  a  whispered  word  betrayed  them,  and  they 
vanished  as  swiftly  and  silently  as  hunted  deer  flying 
for  their  lives. 

Till  dawn  they  hurried  on,  Onawandah  carrying  Eu- 
nice, whose  strength  soon  failed,  and  Reuben  manfully 
shouldering  the  hatchet  and  the  pouch  of  food.  At 
sunrise  they  hid  in  a  thicket  by  a  spring  and  rested, 
while  waiting  for  the  friendly  night  to  come  again. 
Then  they  pushed  on,  and  fear  gave  wings  to  their  feet, 
so  that  by  another  morning  they  were  far  enough  away 
to  venture  to  travel  more  slowly  and  sleep  at  night. 

If  the  children  had  learned  to  love  and  trust  the 
Indian  boy  in  happier  times,  they  adored  him  now,  and 
came  to  regard  him  as  an  earthly  Providence  j  so  faith- 
ful, brave,  and  tender  was  he,  —  so  forgetful  of  himself, 
so  bent  on  saving  them.  He  never  seemed  to  sleep, 
ate  the  poorest  morsels,  or  went  without  any  food  when 
provision  failed  ;  let  no  danger  daunt  him,  no  hardship 
wring  complaint  from  him,  but  went  on  through  the 
wild  forest,  led  by  guides  invisible  to  them,  till  they 
began  to  hope  that  home  was  near. 

Twice  he  saved  their  lives.  Once,  when  he  went 
in  search  of  food,  leaving  Reuben  to  guard  his  sister, 
the  children,  being  very  hungry,  ignorantly  ate  some 


84  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES, 

poisonous  ben-ies  which  looked  like  wild  cherries,  and 
were  deliciously  sweet.  The  boy  generously  gave 
most  of  them  to  Eunice,  and  soon  was  terror-stricken 
to  see  her  grow  pale,  and  cold,  and  deathly  ill.  Not 
knowing  what  to  do,  he  could  only  rub  her  hands  and 
call  wildly  for  Onawandah. 

The  name  echoed  through  the  silent  wood,  and, 
though  far  away,  the  keen  ear  of  the  Indian  heard  it, 
his  fleet  feet  brought  him  back  in  time,  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  wild  roots  and  herbs  made  it  possible  to  save 
the  child  when  no  other  help  was  at  hand. 

"  Make  fire.  Keep  warm.  I  soon  come,"  he  said, 
after  hearing  the  story  and  examining  Eunice,  who 
could  only  lift  her  eyes  to  him,  full  of  childish  confi- 
dence and  patience. 

Then  he  was  off  again,  scouring  the  woods  like  a 
hound  on  the  scent,  searching  everywhere  for  the 
precious  little  herb  that  would  counteract  the  poison. 
Any  one  watching  him  would  have  thought  him  crazy, 
as  he  rushed  hither  and  thither,  tearing  up  the  leaves, 
creeping  on  his  hands  and  knees  that  it  might  not  es- 
cape him,  and  when  he  found  it,  springing  up  with  a 
cry  that  startled  the  birds,  and  carried  hope  to  poor 
Reuben,  who  was  trying  to  forget  his  own  pain  in  his 
anxiety  for  Eunice,  whom  he  thought  dying. 

"  Eat,  eat,  while  I  make  drink.  All  safe  now,"  cried 
Onawandah,  as  he  came  leaping  toward  them  with  his 
hands  full  of  green  leaves,  and  his  dark  face  shining 
with  joy. 

The  boy  was  soon  relieved,  but  for  hours  they  hung 
over  the  girl,  who  suffered  sadly,  till  she  grew  uncon- 


ON  A  WAND  AH.  85 

scious  and  lay  as  if  dead.  Reuben's  courage  failed 
then,  and  he  cried  bitterly,  thinking  how  hard  it  would 
be  to  leave  the  dear  little  creature  under  the  pines  and 
go  home  alone  to  father.  Even  Onawandah  lost  hope 
for  a  while,  and  sat  like  a  bronze  statue  of  despair, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  Wild  Rose,  who  seemed  fad- 
ing away  too  soon. 

Suddenly  he  rose,  stretched  his  arms  to  the  west, 
where  the  sun  was  setting  splendidly,  and  in  his  own 
musical  language  prayed  to  the  Great  Spirit.  The 
Christian  boy  fell  upon  his  knees,  feeling  that  the  only 
help  was  in  the  Father  who  saw  and  heard  them  even 
in  the  wilderness.  Both  were  comforted,  and  when 
they  turned  to  Eunice  there  was  a  faint  tinge  of  color 
on  the  pale  cheeks,  as  if  the  evening  red  kissed  her ; 
the  look  of  pain  was  gone,  and  she  slept  quietly,  with- 
out the  moans  that  had  made  their  hearts  ache  before. 

"  He  hears  !  he  hears  ! "  cried  Onawandah,  and  for 
the  first  time  Reuben  saw  tears  in  his  keen  eyes,  as  the 
Indian  boy  turned  his  face  to  the  sky,  full  of  a  grati- 
tude that  no  words  were  sweet  enough  to  tell. 

All  night  Eunice  lay  peacefully  sleeping,  and  the 
moon  lighted  Onawandah's  lonely  watch,  for  Reuben 
was  worn  out  with  suspense,  and  slept  beside  his 
sister. 

In  the  morning  she  was  safe,  and  great  was  the 
rejoicing ;  but  for  two  days  the  little  invalid  was  not 
allowed  to  continue  the  journey,  much  as  they  longed 
to  hurry  on.  It  was  a  pretty  sight,  the  bed  of  hem- 
lock boughs  spread  under  a  green  tent  of  woven 
branches,  and  on  the  pillow  of  moss  the  pale  child 


86  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

watching  the  flicker  of  sunshine  through  the  leaves, 
listening  to  the  babble  of  a  brook  close  by,  or  sleeping 
tranquilly,  lulled  by  the  murmur  of  the  pines.  Patient, 
loving,  and  grateful,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  serve  her, 
and  both  the  lads  were  faithful  nurses.  Onawandah 
cooked  birds  for  her  to  eat,  and  made  a  pleasant  drink 
of  the  wild-raspberry  leaves  to  quench  her  thirst. 
Reuben  snared  rabbits,  that  she  might  have  nourishing 
food,  and  longed  to  shoot  a  deer  for  provision,  that 
she  might  not  suffer  hunger  again  on  their  journey. 
This  boyish  desire  led  him  deeper  into  the  wood  than 
it  was  wise  for  him  to  go  alone,  for  it  was  near  night- 
fall, and  wild  creatures  haunted  the  forest  in  those 
days.  The  fire,  which  Onawandah  kept  constantly 
burning,  guarded  their  little  camp  where  Eunice  lay  ; 
but  Reuben,  with  no  weapon  but  his  bow  and  hunting 
knife,  was  beyond  this  protection  when  he  at  last  gave 
up  his  vain  hunt  and  turned  homeward.  Suddenly, 
the  sound  of  stealthy  steps  startled  him,  but  he  could 
see  nothing  through  the  dusk  at  first,  and  hurried  on, 
fearing  that  some  treacherous  Indian  was  following 
him.  Then  he  remembered  his  sister,  and  resolved 
not  to  betray  her  resting-place  if  he  could  help  it,  for 
he  had  learned  courage  of  Onawandah,  and  longed  to 
be  as  brave  and  generous  as  his  dusky  hero. 

So  he  paused  to  watch  and  wait,  and  soon  saw  the 
gleam  of  two  fiery  eyes,  not  behind,  but  above  him,  in 
a  tree.  Then  he  knew  that  it  was  an  "  Indian  devil," 
as  they  called  a  species  of  fierce  animal  that  lurked 
in  the  thickets  and  sprang  on  its  prey  like  a  small 
tia'er. 


ON  AW  AND  AH.  87 

*  If  I  could  only  kill  it  alone,  how  proud  Onawandah 
would  be  of  me,"  thought  Reuben,  burning  for  the 
good  opinion  of  his  friend. 

It  would  have  been  wiser  to  hurry  on  and  give  the 
beast  no  time  to  spring ;  but  the  boy  was  over  bold, 
and,  fitting  an  arrow  to  the  string,  aimed  at  the  bright 
eye-ball  and  let  fly.  A  sharp  snarl  showed  that  some 
harm  was  done,  and,  rather  daunted  by  the  savage 
sound,  Reuben  raced  away,  meaning  to  come  back 
next  day  for  the  prize  he  hoped  he  had  secured. 

But  soon  he  heard  the  creature  bounding  after  him, 
and  he  uttered  one  ringing  shout  for  help,  feeling  too 
late  that  he  had  been  foolhardy.  Fortunately,  he  was 
nearer  camp  than  he  thought.  Onawandah  heard  him, 
and  was  there  in  time  to  receive  the  beast,  as,  mad 
with  the  pain  of  the  wound,  it  sprung  at  Reuben. 
There  was  no  time  for  words,  and  the  boy  could 
only  watch  in  breathless  interest  and  anxiety  the 
fight  which  went  on  between  the  brute  and  the 
Indian. 

It  was  sharp  but  short;  for  Onawandah  had  his 
knife,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  get  the  snarling,  strug- 
gling creature  down,  he  killed  it  with  a  skilful  stroke. 
But  not  before  it  had  torn  and  bitten  him  more  dan- 
gerously than  he  knew ;  for  the  dusk  hid  the  wounds, 
and  excitement  kept  him  from  feeling  them  at  first. 
Reuben  thanked  him  heartily,  and  accepted  his 
few  words  of  warning  with  grateful  docility ;  then 
both  hurried  back  to  Eunice,  who  till  next  day  knew 
nothing  of  her  brother's  danger. 

Onawandah  made  light  of  his  scratches,  as  he  called 


88  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

them,  got  their  supper,  and  sent  Reuben  early  to  bed, 
for  to-morrow  they  were  to  start  again. 

Excited  by  his  adventure,  the  boy  slept  lightly,  and 
waking  in  the  night,  saw  by  the  flicker  of  the  fire  Ona- 
wandah  binding  up  a  deep  wound  in  his  breast  with 
wet  moss  and  his  own  belt.  A  stifled  groan  betrayed 
how  much  he  suffered  ;  but  when  Reuben  went  to  him, 
he  would  accept  no  help,  said  it  was  nothing,  and  sent 
him  back  to  bed,  preferring  to  endure  the  pain  in 
stern  silence,  wTith  true  Indian  pride  and  courage. 

Next  morning,  they  set  out  and  pushed  on  as  fast  as 
Eunice's  strength  allowed.  But  it  was  evident  that 
Onawandah  suffered  much,  though  he  would  not  rest, 
forbade  the  children  to  speak  of  his  wounds,  and 
pressed  on  with  feverish  haste,  as  if  he  feared  that  his 
strength  might  not  hold  out.  Reuben  watched  him 
anxiously,  for  there  was  a  look  in  his  face  that  trou- 
bled the  boy  and  filled  him  with  alarm,  as  well  as  with 
remorse  and  love.  Eunice  would  not  let  him  carry 
her  as  before,  but  trudged  bravely  behind  him,  though 
her  feet  ached  and  her  breath  often  failed  as  she  tried 
to  keep  up;  and  both  children  did  all  they  could  to 
comfort  and  sustain  their  friend,  who  seemed  glad  to 
give  his  life  for  them. 

In  three  days  they  reached  the  river,  and,  as  if 
Heaven  helped  them  in  their  greatest  need,  found  a 
canoe,  left  by  some  hunter,  near  the  shore.  In  they 
sprang,  and  let  the  swift  current  bear  them  along, 
Eunice  kneeling  in  the  bow  like  a  little  figure-head  of 
Hope,  Reuben  steering  with  his  paddle,  and  Onawan- 
dah sitting  with  arms  tightly  folded  over  his  breast,  as 


ONAWANDAH.  89 

if  to  control  the  sharp  anguish  of  the  neglected  wound. 
He  knew  that  it  was  past  help  now,  and  only  cared  to 
see  the  children  safe ;  then,  worn  out  but  happy,  he  was 
proud  to  die,  having  paid  his  debt  to  the  good  parson, 
and  proved  that  he  was  not  a  liar  nor  a  traitor. 

Hour  after  hour  they  floated  down  the  great  river, 
looking  eagerly  for  signs  of  home,  and  when  at  last 
they  entered  the  familiar  valley,  while  the  little  girl 
cried  for  joy,  and  the  boy  paddled  as  he  had  never 
done  before,  Onawandah  sat  erect,  with  his  haggard 
eyes  fixed  on  the  dim  distance,  and  sang  his  death- 
song  in  a  clear,  strong  voice, — though  every  breath 
was  pain,  —  bent  on  dying  like  a  brave,  without  com- 
plaint or  fear. 

At  last  they  saw  the  smoke  from  the  cabins  on  the 
hillside,  and,  hastily  mooring  the  canoe,  all  sprang 
out,  eager  to  be  at  home  after  their  long  and  perilous 
wandering.  But  as  his  foot  touched  the  land,  Ona- 
wandah felt  that  he  could  do  no  more,  and  stretching 
his  arms  toward  the  parsonage,  the  windows  of  which 
glimmered  as  hospitably  as  they  had  done  when  he 
first  saw  them,  he  said,  with  a  pathetic  sort  of  triumph 
in  his  broken  voice  :  "  Go.  I  cannot.  Tell  the  good 
father,  Onawandah  not  lie,  not  forget.  He  keep  his 
promise." 

Then  he  dropped  upon  the  grass  and  lay  as  if  dead, 
while  Reuben,  bidding  Eunice  keep  watch,  ran  as  fast 
as  his  tired  legs  could  carry  him  to  tell  the  tale  and 
bring  help. 

The  little  girl  did  her  part  tenderly,  carrying  water 
in  her  hands  to  wet  the  white  lips,  tearing   up  her 


90  SPINNING- WHEEL   STORIES. 

ragged  skirt  to  lay  fresh  bandages  on  the  wound  that 
had  been  bleeding  the  brave  boy's  life  away,  and,  sit- 
ting by  him,  gathered  his  head  into  her  arms,  begging 
him  to  wait  till  father  came. 

But  poor  Onawandah  had  waited  too  long ;  now  he 
could  only  look  up  into  the  dear,  loving,  little  face 
bent  over  him,  and  whisper  wistfully  :  "  Wild  Rose 
will  remember  Onawandah  1 "  as  the  light  went  out  of 
his  eyes,  and  his  last  breath  was  a  smile  for  her. 

When  the  parson  and  his  people  came  hurrying  up 
full  of  wonder,  joy,  and  good- will,  they  found  Eunice 
weeping  bitterly,  and  the  Indian  boy  lying  like  a 
young  warrior  smiling  at  death. 

"  Ah,  my  neighbors,  the  savage  has  taught  us  a  les- 
son we  never  can  forget.  Let  us  imitate  his  virtues, 
and  do  honor  to  his  memory,"  said  the  pastor,  as  he 
held  his  little  daughter  close  and  looked  down  at  the 
pathetic  figure  at  his  feet,  whose  silence  was  more 
eloquent  than  any  words. 

All  felt  it,  and  even  old  Becky  had  a  remorseful 
sigh  for  the  boy  who  had  kept  his  word  so  well  and 
given  back  her  darlings  safe. 

They  buried  him  where  he  lay;  and  for  years  the 
lonely  mound  under  the  great  oak  was  kept  green  by 
loving  hands.  Wild  roses  bloomed  there,  and  the  mur- 
mur of  the  Long  River  of  Pines  was  a  fit  lullaby  for 
faithful  Onawandah. 


" That's  the  sort  I  like,"  said  Geoff,  as  the  story 
ended ;  "  Onawandah  was  a  trump,  and  I  'd  give  a 
good  deal  to  know  such  a  fellow,  and  go  hunting  with 
him.     Got  any  more  like  it,  aunty  1 " 

"  Perhaps ;  but  it  is  the  girls'  turn  now,  and  here  is 
a  quiet  little  story  that  teaches  the  same  lesson  in  a 
different  way.  It  contains  a  hint  which  some  of  you 
would  better  take  ; "  and  Aunt  Elinor  glanced  around 
the  circle  with  a  smile  that  set  her  hearers  on  the 
alert  to  see  who  was  to  be  hit. 

"  Hope  it  is  n't  very  moral,"  said  Geoff,  with  a  boy- 
ish dislike  of  being  preached  at. 

"  It  won't  harm  you  to  listen,  and  take  the  moral  to 
heart,  my  lad.  Wild  horses,  gold  mines,  and  sea 
scrapes,  are  not  the  only  things  worth  reading  about. 
If  you  ever  do  half  so  much  good  in  the  world  as  the 
people  in  this  story  did,  I  shall  be  proud  of  you,"  an- 
swered Aunt  Elinor,  so  soberly  that  Geoff  folded  his 
hands,  and  tried  to  look  meekly  impressed. 

"Is  it  truer'  asked  Min. 


92  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  Yes.  I  heard  ' Abby  '  tell  it  herself,  and  saw  the 
silk  stocking,  and  the  scar." 

"  That  sounds  very  interesting.  I  do  like  to  hear 
about  good  clothes  and  awful  accidents,"  cried  the 
girl,  forgetting  to  spin,  in  her  eagerness  to  listen. 

They  all  laughed  at  her  odd  mixture  of  tastes,  and 
then  heard  the  story  of 

LITTLE    THINGS. 

Abigail  sat  reading  "  Rasselas  "  aloud  to  her  father 
while  he  shaved,  pausing  now  and  then  to  explain  a 
word  or  correct  the  girl's  pronunciation ;  for  this  was 
a  lesson,  as  well  as  a  pleasure.  The  handsome  man, 
in  his  nankin  dressing-gown,  ruffled  shirt,  black  small- 
clothes, and  silk  stockings,  stood  before  the  tall,  old- 
fashioned  bureau,  looking  often  from  the  reflection  of 
his  own  ruddy  face  to  the  pale  one  beside  him,  with 
an  expression  of  tender  pride,  which  plainly  showed 
how  dear  his  young  daughter  was  to  him. 

Abby  was  a  slender  girl  of  fifteen,  in  a  short-waisted 
gingham  gown,  with  a  muslin  tucker,  dimity  apron, 
and  morocco  shoes  on  a  pair  of  small  feet  demurely 
crossed  before  her.  A  blue-eyed,  brown-haired  little 
creature,  with  a  broad  brow,  and  a  sweet  mouth,  evi- 
dently both  intelligent  and  affectionate;  for  she 
heartily  enjoyed  the  story,  and  answered  her  father's 
approving  glances  with  a  face  full  of  the  loving  rev- 
erence so  beautiful  to  see. 

Schools  were  not  abundant  in  1815;  and,  after 
learning  to  read,  spell,  sew,  and  cipher  a  little  at  some 


LITTLE   THINGS.  93 

dame  school,  girls  were  left  to  pick  up  knowledge  as 
they  could ;  while  the  brothers  went  to  college,  or 
were  apprenticed  to  some  trade.  But  the  few  things 
they  did  study  were  well  learned;  so  that  Abby's 
reading  was  a  pleasure  to  hear.  She  wrote  a  fine, 
clear  hand,  seldom  misspelled  a  word,  kept  her  own 
little  account-book  in  good  order,  and  already  made  her 
father's  shirts,  hemstitching  the  linen  cambric  ruffles 
with  the  daintiest  skill,  and  turning  out  button-holes 
any  one  might  be  proud  of.  These  accomplishments 
did  not  satisfy  her,  however,  and  she  longed  to  know 
much  more, — to  do  and  be  something  great  and 
good,  —  with  the  sincere  longing  of  an  earnest, 
thoughtful  girl. 

These  morning  talks  with  her  father  were  precious 
half-hours  to  her;  for  they  not  only  read  and  dis- 
cussed well-chosen  books,  but  Abby  opened  her 
heart  freely,  and  received  his  wise  counsels  with  a 
grateful  docility  which  helped  to  make  her  after-life 
as  benevolent  and  blessed  as  his. 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  Rasselas  wanted  to  get  out  of 
the  Happy  Valley  and  see  the  world  for  himself.  I 
often  feel  so,  and  long  to  go  and  have  adventures,  like 
the  people  I  read  about ;  to  do  something  very  splen- 
did, and  be  brave  and  great  and  loved  and  honored," 
said  Abby,  as  she  closed  the  book,  and  looked  out  of 
the  open  window  with  wistful  eyes ;  for  the  chestnut 
trees  were  rustling  in  the  May  sunshine,  and  spring 
was  stirring  in  the  girl's  heart,  as  well  as  in  the 
budding  boughs  and  early  flowers  on  the  green  bank 
below. 


94  SPINNING-WHEEL  STOEIES. 

"  Do  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  leave  your  Happy  Valley, 
my  dear ;  but  help  to  keep  it  so  by  doing  your  part 
well.  The  happiness  of  life  depends  very  much  on  little 
things ;  and  one  can  be  brave  and  great  and  good  while 
making  small  sacrifices  and  doing  small  duties  faith- 
fully and  cheerfully,"  answered  Mr.  Lyon,  with  the 
look  of  one  who  practised  what  he  preached. 

"  But  my  little  things  are  so  stupid  and  easy.  Sew- 
ing, and  learning  to  pickle  and  preserve,  and  going 
out  to  tea  when  I  don't  want  to,  and  helping  mother, 
are  none  of  them  romantic  or  exciting  duties  and  sac- 
rifices. If  I  could  take  care  of  poor  people,  or  be  a 
colonel  in  a  splendid  uniform,  and  march  with  drums 
and  trumpets,  —  or  even  a  fire-warden,  and  run  to  save 
lives  and  property,  and  be  loved  and  thanked  and 
trusted,  as  you  are,  I  should  be  contented,"  con- 
tinued Abby,  kindling  at  the  thought;  for  she  con- 
sidered her  father  the  noblest  of  men,  and  glowed  with 
pride  when  she  saw  him  in  his  regimentals  on  great 
occasions,  or  when  she  helped  him  into  the  leathern 
cap  and  coat,  and  gave  him  the  lantern,  staff,  and 
canvas  bags  he  used,  as  fire-warden,  long  before  steam- 
engines,  hook  and  ladder  companies,  and  electric 
alarms  were  dreamed  of. 

Mr.  Lyon  laughed  as  he  washed  his  face  at  the 
queer,  three-cornered  stand,  and  then  sat  down  to 
have  his  hair  tied  in  a  queue  by  his  daughter,  who 
prided  herself  on  doing  this  as  well  as  a  barber. 

"Ah,  my  girl,  it's  not  the  things  that  make  the 
most  noise  and  show  that  are  the  bravest  and  the 
best ;  but  the  everlasting  patience,  charity,  and  cour- 


LITTLE   THINGS.  95 

age  needed  to  bear  our  daily  trials  like  good  Chris- 
tians." And  the  smile  changed  to  a  sigh,  for  the 
excellent  man  knew  the  value  of  these  virtues,  and 
their  rarity. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  sir ;  but  it  is  so  splendid  to  be  a 
hero,  and  have  the  world  ring  with  one's  glory,  like 
"Washington  and  Lafayette,  or  Perry,  Hull,  and 
Lawrence,"  said  Abby,  winding  the  black  ribbon  so 
energetically  that  it  nearly  broke;  for  her  head  was 
full  of  the  brave  deeds  performed  in  the  wars  of  1775 
and  1812,  the  latter  of  which  she  well  remembered. 

''Easy,  my  dear,  easy  !  —  remember  that  it  was  the 
faithful  doing  of  small  things  which  fitted  these  men 
to  do  the  grand  deeds  well,  when  the  time  came.  He- 
roes are  not  made  in  a  minute,  and  we  never  know 
what  we  may  be  called  upon  to  live  through.  Train 
yourself  now  to  be  skilful,  prompt,  courageous,  and 
kind;  then  when  the  duty  or  the  danger  comes, 
you  will  be  prepared  for  it.  'Keep  your  spindle 
ready,  and  the  Lord  will  send  the  flax,'  as  the  old 
proverb  says." 

"  I  will,  father,  and  remember  the  other  saying  that 
you  like  and  live  up  to,  '  Do  right  and  leave  the  conse- 
quences to  God,' "  answered  Abby,  with  her  arm  about 
his  neck,  and  a  soft  cheek  against  his,  feeling  that  with 
such  an  example  before  her  she  ought  not  to  fail. 

"  That 's  my  good  girl !  Come,  now,  begin  at  once. 
Here's  a  little  thing  to  do,  a  very  homely  one,  but 
useful,  and  some  honor  may  be  gained  by  doing  it 
nicely ;  for,  if  you  '11  darn  this  bad  rent  in  my  new 
stocking,  I  '11  give  you  five  dollars." 


96  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

As  he  spoke,  Mr.  Lyon  handed  her  a  heavy  silk 
stocking  with  a  great  "barn-door"  tear  in  the  calf. 
He  was  rather  proud  of  his  handsome  legs,  and 
dressed  them  with  care,  importing  hose  of  unusual  fine- 
ness for  state  occasions ;  being  one  of  the  old-time  gen- 
tlemen whose  stately  elegance  added  dignity  to  any 
scene. 

Abby  groaned  as  she  examined  the  hole  torn  by  a 
nail,  for  it  was  a  very  bad  one,  and  she  knew  that  if 
not  well  done,  the  costly  stocking  would  be  ruined. 
She  hated  to  darn,  infinitely  preferring  to  read,  or 
study  Latin  with  her  brother,  instead  of  repairing  old 
damask,  muslin  gowns,  and  the  family  hose.  But 
she  did  it  well,  excelling  her  elder  sister  in  this  branch 
of  needle-work ;  so  she  could  not  refuse,  though  the 
sacrifice  of  time  and  taste  would  have  been  almost 
impossible  for  any  one  but  father. 

11 1  '11  try,  sir,  and  you  shall  pay  me  with  a  kiss ; 
five  dollars  is  too  much  for  such  a  little  thing,"  she 
said,  smiling  at  him  as  she  put  the  stocking  into  the 
capacious  pocket  where  girls  kept  housewife,  scissors, 
thimble,  pin-ball,  and  a  bit  of  lovage  or  flag-root  in 
those  days. 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  that  you  '11  find  it  an  easy  job ; 
but  remember  Bruce  and  his  spider,  and  don't  be 
conquered  by  the  'little  thing.'  Now  I  must  be  off. 
Good-by,  my  darling,"  and  Mr.  Lyon's  dark  eyes 
twinkled  as  he  thought  of  the  task  he  had  set  her ; 
for  it  seemed  as  if  nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could 
restore  his  damaged  stocking. 

Abby  forgot  her  heroics  and  ran  to  get  his  hat  and 


LITTLE   THINGS.  97 

cane,  to  receive  his  morning  kiss,  and  answer  the  sa- 
lute he  always  paused  at  the  street  corner  to  give  her 
before  he  went  away  to  the  many  cares  and  labors  of 
his  own  busy  day.  But  while  she  put  her  little  room 
in  order,  dusted  the  parlor,  and  clapped  laces  for  her 
mother,  who,  like  most  ladies  long  ago,  did  up  her 
own  caps  and  turbans,  Abby  was  thinking  over  the 
late  conversation,  and  wondering  if  strict  attention  to 
small  affairs  would  really  lead  to  something  good  or 
glorious  in  the  end. 

When  her  other  duties  were  done,  she  resolutely  sat 
down  to  the  detested  darn,  although  it  would  have 
been  much  pleasanter  to  help  her  sister  cut  out  green 
satin  leaves  and  quill  up  pink  ribbon  into  roses  for  a 
garland  to  festoon  the  skirt  of  a  new  white  dress. 

Hour  after  hour  she  worked,  slowly  and  carefully 
weaving  the  torn  edges  together,  stitch  by  stitch,  till 
her  eyes  ached  and  the  delicate  needle  grew  rusty  in 
her  warm  hand.  Her  mother  begged  her  to  stop  and 
rest,  sister  Catharine  called  her  to  come  and  see  how 
well  the  garland  looked,  and  a  friend  came  to  take  her 
to  drive.  But  she  refused  to  stir,  and  kept  at  her 
weaving,  as  patiently  as  King  Robert's  spider,  picking 
out  a  bit  that  puckered,  turning  the  corner  with  breath- 
less care,  and  rapping  it  with  her  thimble  on  the 
wooden  egg  till  it  lay  flat.  Then  she  waited  till  an 
iron  was  heated,  and  pressed  it  nicely,  finishing  in  time 
to  put  it  on  her  father's  bureau,  where  he  would  see  it 
when  he  dressed  for  dinner. 

"  Nearly  four  hours  over  that  dreadful  darn  !  But 
it 's  done  now,  and  hardly  shows,  so  I  do  think  I  've 
7 


98  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

earned  my  money.  I  shall  buy  that  work-box  I  have 
wanted  so  long.  The  inlaid  one,  with  nice  velvet  beds 
for  the  thimble,  scissors,  and  bodkin,  and  a  glass  in 
the  cover,  and  a  little  drawer  for  my  silk-reels.  Father 
will  like  that,  and  I  shall  be  proud  to  show  it." 

These  agreeable  thoughts  were  passing  through  Ab- 
by's  mind  as  she  went  into  the  front  yard  for  a  breath 
of  air,  after  her  long  task  was  over.  Tulips  and  hya- 
cinths were  blooming  there,  and,  peeping  through  the 
bars  of  the  gate,  stood  a  little  girl  wistfully  watching 
the  gay  blossoms  and  enjoying  their  perfume.  Now, 
Abby  was  fond  of  her  garden,  and  had  been  hurrying 
the  early  flowers,  that  they  might  be  ready  for  her 
father's  birthday  nosegay ;  so  her  first  impulse  was  to 
feign  that  she  did  not  see  the  child,  for  she  did  not 
want  to  give  away  a  single  tulip.  But  the  morning 
talk  was  fresh  in  her  memory,  and  presently  she 
thought : — 

"  Here  is  a  little  thing  I  can  do ; "  and  ashamed  of 
the  selfish  impulse,  she  gathered  several  of  her  finest 
flowers  and  offered  them,  saying  cordially  :  — 

"  I  think  you  would  like  these.  Please  take  them, 
and  by  and  by  when  there  are  more,  you  shall  have 
prettier  ones." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  I  did  want  some  for  mamma. 
She  is  ill,  and  will  be  so  pleased,"  was  the  grateful 
answer,  given  with  a  little  courtesy,  and  a  smile  that 
made  the  wistful  face  a  very  happy  one. 

"  Do  you  live  near  by  1 "  asked  Abby,  seeing  at  once 
from  the  child's  speech  and  manner  that  she  was  both 
well-bred  and  grateful. 


LITTLE   THINGS.  99 

"Just  around  the  corner.  We  are  English,  and 
papa  is  dead.  Mamma  kept  school  in  another  place 
till  she  was  too  ill,  and  now  I  take  care  of  her  and  the 
children  as  well  as  I  can." 

The  little  girl  of  twelve,  in  her  black  frock,  with  a 
face  far  too  old  and  anxious  for  her  years,  was  so  inno- 
cently pathetic  as  she  told  the  sad  story,  that  Abby's 
tender  heart  was  touched,  and  an  impetuous  desire  to 
do  something  at  once  made  her  exclaim  :  — 

"Wait  a  minute,  and  I'll  send  something  better 
than  flowers.  Would  n't  your  mother  like  some  wine 
jelly  1  I  helped  make  it,  and  have  a  glassful  all  my 
own." 

"  Indeed  she  would ! "  began  the  child,  blushing 
with  pleasure ;  for  the  poor  lady  needed  just  such 
delicacies,  but  thought  only  of  the  children's  wants. 

Waiting  to  hear  no  more,  Abby  ran  in  to  get  her 
offering,  and  came  back  beaming  with  benevolent 
good- will. 

"As  it  is  not  far  and  you  have  that  big  basket,  I  '11 
go  with  you  and  help  carry  the  things,  if  I  may  1  My 
mother  will  let  me,  and  my  father  will  come  and  see 
you,  I  'm  sure,  if  you  'd  like  to  have  him.  He  takes 
care  of  everybody,  and  is  the  best  and  wisest  man  in 
all  the  world." 

Lucy  Mayhew  accepted  these  kind  offers  with  child- 
ish confidence,  thinking  the  young  lady  a  sort  of  angel 
in  a  coal-scuttle  bonnet,  and  the  two  went  chatting 
along,  good  friends  at  once ;  for  Abby  had  most  engag- 
ing manners,  and  her  cheerful  face  won  its  way  every- 
where. 


100  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

She  found  the  English  family  a  very  interesting  one, 
for  the  mother  was  a  gentlewoman,  and  in  sore  straits 
now,  —  being  unable  to  use  her  accomplishments  any 
longer,  and  failing  fast,  with  no  friends  to  protect  the 
four  little  children  she  must  soon  leave  alone  in  a 
strange  land. 

"  If  they  were  only  cared  for,  I  could  go  in  peace ; 
but  it  breaks  my  heart  to  think  of  them  in  an  asy- 
lum, when  they  need  a  home,"  said  the  poor  lady, 
telling  her  greatest  anxiety  to  this  sympathetic  young 
visitor;  while  Lucy  regaled  the  noses  of  the  eager 
little  ones  with  delicious  sniffs  of  the  pink  and  blue 
hyacinths. 

"Tell  father  all  about  it,  and  he  '11  know  just  what 
to  do.  He  always  does,  and  every  one  goes  to  him. 
May  he  come  and  see  you,  ma'am  % "  said  Abby,  long- 
ing to  take  them  all  home  at  once. 

"  He  will  be  as  welcome  as  an  angel  from  Heaven, 
my  child.  I  am  failing  very  fast,  and  help  and  com- 
fort are  sorely  needed,"  answered  the  grateful  woman, 
with  wet  eyes  and  a  heart  too  full  for  many  thanks. 

Abby's  eyes  were  full  also,  and  promising  to  "  send 
father  soon,"  she  went  away,  little  dreaming  that  the 
handful  of  flowers  and  a  few  kind  words  were  the 
first  links  in  a  chain  of  events  that  brought  a  blessing 
into  her  own  home. 

She  waited  anxiously  for  her  father's  return,  and 
blushed  with  pleasure  as  he  said,  after  examining  her 
morning's  work  :  — 

"  Wonderfully  well  done,  my  dear  !  Your  mother 
says  she  could  n't  have  done  it  better  herself." 


LITTLE   THINGS.  101 

"  I  'm  sorry  that  it  shows  at  all  ;  but  it  was  impos- 
sible to  hide  that  corner,  and  if  you  wear  it  on  the 
inside  of  the  leg,  it  won't  be  seen  much,"  explained 
Abby,  anxiously. 

"  It  shows  just  enough  for  me  to  know  where  to 
point  when  I  boast  of  my  girl's  patience  and  skill. 
People  say  I  'm  making  a  blue-stocking  of  you,  because 
we  read  Johnson ;  but  my  black  stocking  will  prove 
that  I  have  n't  spoiled  you  yet,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  pinch- 
ing her  cheek,  as  they  went  down  to  dinner  arm  in 
arm. 

Literary  ladies  were  looked  upon  with  awe,  and  by 
many  with  disapproval,  in  those  days ;  so  Abby's  stu- 
dious tastes  were  criticised  by  the  good  cousins  and 
aunts,  who  feared  she  might  do  something  peculiar ; 
though,  years  later,  they  were  very  proud  of  the  fine 
letters  she  wrote,  and  the  intellectual  society  which  she 
had  unconsciously  fitted  herself  to  enjoy  and  adorn. 

Abby  laughed  at  her  father's  joke,  but  said  no  more 
just  then ;  for  young  people  sat  silent  at  table  while 
their  elders  talked.  She  longed  to  tell  about  Lucy ; 
and  when  dessert  came,  she  drew  her  chair  near  to  her 
father's,  that  she  might  pick  the  kernels  from  his  wal- 
nuts and  drop  them  into  his  wine,  waiting  till  he  said, 
as  usual  :  "  Now,  little  girl,  let 's  take  comfort."  For 
both  enjoyed  the  hour  of  rest  he  allowed  himself  in  the 
middle  of  the  day. 

On  this  occasion  he  varied  the  remark  by  adding, 
as  he  took  a  bill  from  his  pocket-book  and  gave  it  to 
her  with  a  kiss  :  "  Well-earned  money,  my  dear,  and 
most  cheerfully  paid." 


102  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

"  Thank  you,  sir  !  It  seems  a  great  deal  for  such  a 
small  job.  But  I  do  want  it  very  much.  May  I  tell 
you  how  I'd  like  to  spend  it,  father1?"  cried  Abby, 
beaming  with  the  sweet  delight  of  helping  others. 

"Yes,  child;  come  and  tell  me.  Something  for 
sister,  I  suspect ;  or  a  new  book,  perhaps."  And,  draw- 
ing her  to  his  knee,  Mr.  Lyon  waited  with  a  face  full 
of  benignant  interest  in  her  little  confidences. 

She  told  her  story  eagerly  and  well,  exclaiming  as 
she  ended  :  "  And  now,  I  'm  so  glad,  so  very  glad,  I 
have  this  money,  all  my  own,  to  spend  for  those  dear 
little  things !  I  know  you  '11  help  them  ;  but  it 's  so 
nice  to  be  able  to  do  my  part,  and  giving  away  is  such 
a  pleasure." 

"  You  are  your  father's  own  daughter  in  that,  child. 
I  must  go  and  get  my  contribution  ready,  or  I  shall  be 
left  out,"  said  Mrs.  Lyon,  hastening  away  to  add  one 
more  charity  to  the  many  which  made  her  quiet  life  so 
beautiful. 

"  I  will  go  and  see  our  neighbor  this  evening,  and 
you  shall  come  with  me.  You  see,  my  girl,  that  the 
homely  '  little  job '  is  likely  to  be  a  large  and  pleas- 
ant one,  and  you  have  earned  your  part  in  it.  Do 
the  duty  that  comes  first,  and  one  never  knows 
what  beautiful  experience  it  may  blossom  into.  Use 
your  earnings  as  you  like,  and  God  bless  you,  my 
dear."' 

So  Abby  had  her  part  in  the  happy  days  that  came 
to  the  Mayhews,  and  enjoyed  it  more  than  a  dozen 
work-boxes ;  while  her  father  was  never  tired  of  show- 
ing the  handsome  darn  and  telling  the  story  of  it. 


LITTLE  THINGS.  103 

Help  and  comfort  were  much  needed  around  the 
corner;  for  very  soon  the  poor  lady  died.  But  her 
confidence  in  the  new  friends  raised  up  to  her  was  not 
misplaced ;  and  when  all  was  over,  and  people  asked, 
"What  will  become  of  the  children'?"  Mr.  Lyon 
answered  the  sad  question  by  leading  the  four  little 
orphans  to  his  own  house,  and  keeping  them  till  good 
homes  were  found  for  the  three  youngest. 

Lucy  was  heart-broken,  and  clung  to  Abby  in  her 
sorrow,  as  if  nothing  else  could  console  her  for  all  she 
had  lost.  No  one  had  the  heart  to  speak  of  sending 
her  away  at  present;  and,  before  long,  the  grateful 
little  creature  had  won  a  place  for  herself  which  she 
never  forfeited. 

It  was  good  for  Abby  to  have  a  care  of  this  sort,  and 
her  generous  nature  enjoyed  it  thoroughly,  as  she 
played  elder  sister  in  the  sweetest  way.  It  was  her 
first  real  lesson  in  the  charity  that  made  her  after-life 
so  rich  and  beautiful ;  but  then  she  little  dreamed  how 
well  she  was  to  be  repaid  for  her  small  share  in  the 
good  work  which  proved  to  be  a  blessing  to  them  all. 

Soon,  preparations  for  sister  Catharine's  wedding 
produced  a  pleasant  bustle  in  the  house,  and  both  the 
younger  girls  were  as  busy  as  bees,  helping  everywhere. 
Dressmakers  ripped  and  stitched  upstairs,  visitors  gos- 
siped in  the  parlor,  and  cooks  simmered  and  scolded  in 
the  kitchen ;  while  notable  Madam  Lyon  presided  over 
the  household,  keeping  the  peace  and  gently  bringing 
order  out  of  chaos. 

Abby  had  a  new  sprigged  muslin  frock,  with  a  white 
sash,  and  her  first   pair  of  silk  stockings,  a  present 


104  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

from  her  father.  A  bunch  of  pink  roses  gave  the 
finishing  touch,  and  she  turned  up  her  hair  with  a  tor- 
toise-shell comb  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

All  the  relations  —  and  there  were  many  of  them  — 
came  to  the  wedding,  and  the  hospitable  mansion  was 
crowded  with  old  and  young.  A  fine  breakfast  was 
prepared,  a  line  of  carriages  filled  the  quiet  street,  and 
troops  of  stately  ladies  and  gentlemen  came  marching 
in ;  for  the  Lyons  were  a  much-honored  family. 

The  interesting  moment  arrived  at  last,  the  minister 
opened  his  book,  the  lovely  bride  entered  with  her 
groom,  and  a  solemn  silence  fell  upon  the  rustling 
crowd.  Abby  was  much  excited,  and  felt  that  she 
was  about  to  disgrace  herself  by  crying.  Fortunately 
she  stood  near  the  door,  and  finding  that  a  sob  would 
come  at  thought  of  her  dear  sister  going  away  forever, 
she  slipped  out  and  ran  upstairs  to  hide  her  tears  in 
the  back  bedroom,  where  she  was  put  to  accommodate 
guests. 

As  she  opened  the  door,  a  puff  of  smoke  made  her 
catch  her  breath,  then  run  to  throw  open  the  window 
before  she  turned  to  look  for  the  fallen  brand.  A  fire 
had  been  kindled  in  this  room  a  short  time  before,  and, 
to  Abby's  dismay,  the  sudden  draught  fanned  the 
smouldering  sparks  which  had  crept  from  a  fallen  log 
to  the  mop-board  and  thence  around  the  wooden 
mantel-piece.  A  suspicious  crackling  was  heard,  little 
tongues  of  flame  darted  from  the  cracks,  and  the  air 
was  full  of  smoke. 

Abby's  first  impulse  was  to  fly  downstairs,  scream- 
ing "  Fire  !  w  at  the  top  of  her  voice ;  her  second  was 


LITTLE   THINGS.  105 

to  stand  still  and  think  what  to  do,  —  for  an  instant's 
recollection  showed  her  what  terror  and  confusion  such 
a  cry  would  produce  in  the  crowded  house,  and  how 
unseemly  a  panic  would  be  at  such  a  time. 

"  If  I  could  only  get  at  father  !  But  I  can't  without 
scaring  every  one.  What  would  he  do "?  I  've  heard 
him  tell  about  fires,  and  how  to  put  them  out;  I  know, 
—  stop  the  draught  first,"  and  Abby  shut  the  window. 
"  Now  water  and  wet  blankets,"  and  away  she  ran  to 
the  bath-room,  and  filling  a  pail,  dashed  the  water  over 
the  burning  wood.  Then,  pulling  the  blankets  from  off 
the  bed,  she  wet  them  as  well  as  she  could,  and  hung 
them  up  before  the  fire-place,  going  to  and  fro  for  more 
water  till  the  smoke  ceased  to  pour  out  and  the  crack- 
ling stopped. 

These  energetic  measures  were  taken  just  in  time  to 
prevent  a  serious  fire,  and  when  Abby  dared  to  rest  a 
moment,  with  her  eyes  on  the  chimney,  fearing  the 
treacherous  blaze  might  burst  out  in  a  new  place, 
she  discovered  that  her  clothes  were  wet,  her  face 
blackened,  her  hands  blistered,  and  her  breath 
gone. 

"  No  matter,"  she  thought,  still  too  much  elated 
with  her  success  to  feel  the  pain.  "Father  will  be 
pleased,  I  know ;  for  this  is  what  he  would  call  an 
emergency,  and  I  've  had  my  wits  about  me.  I  wish 
mother  would  come.  Oh,  dear !  how  queerly  I  feel  —  " 
and  in  the  midst  of  her  self-congratulation,  poor  little 
Abby  fainted  away,  —  slipping  to  the  floor  and  lying 
there,  like  a  new  sort  of  Casabianca,  faithful  at  her 
post. 


106  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

Lucy  found  her  very  soon,  having  missed  her  and 
come  to  look  for  her  the  minute  the  service  was  over. 
Much  frightened,  she  ran  down  again  and  tried  to  tell 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lyon  quietly.  But  her  pale  face  alarmed 
every  one,  and  when  Abby  came  to  herself,  she  was 
in  her  father's  arms,  being  carried  from  the  scene  of 
devastation  to  her  mother's  room,  where  a  crowd  of 
anxious  relatives  received  her  like  a  conquering 
hero. 

"  Well  done,  my  brave  little  fire-warden  !  I  'm  proud 
of  you  !  "  were  the  first  words  she  heard  ;  and  they  were 
more  reviving  than  the  burnt  feathers  under  her  nose, 
or  the  lavender-water  plentifully  sprinkled  over  her  by 
her  mother  and  sister. 

With  that  hearty  commendation,  her  father  left  her, 
to  see  that  all  was  safe,  and  Abby  found  that  another 
sort  of  courage  was  needed  to  support  her  through 
the  next  half-hour  of  trial ;  for  her  hands  were  badly 
burned,  and  each  of  the  excellent  relatives  suggested 
a  different  remedy. 

"  Flour  them  !  "  cried  Aunt  Sally,  fanning  her  vio- 
lently. 

"  Goose-oil  and  cotton-batting,"  suggested  Aunt 
Patty. 

"  Nothing  so  good  as  lard,"  pronounced  Aunt  Nabby. 

"  I  always  use  dry  starch  or  a  piece  of  salt  pork," 
added  cousin  Lucretia. 

"  Butter  them  !  "  commanded  grandma.  u  That 's 
what  I  did  when  my  Joseph  fell  into  the  boiler  and 
came  out  with  his  blessed  little  legs  the  color  of  lob- 
sters.    Butter  them,  Dolly." 


LITTLE   THINGS.  107 

That  settled  the  vexed  question,  and  Abby's  hands 
were  well  buttered,  while  a  hearty  laugh  composed  the 
spirits  of  the  agitated  party ;  for  the  contrast  between 
grandma's  words  and  her  splendid  appearance,  as  she 
sat  erect  in  the  big  arm-chair  issuing  commands  like  a 
general,  in  silver-gray  satin  and  an  imposing  turban, 
was  very  funny. 

Then  Abby  was  left  to  repose,  with  Lucy  and  old 
Nurse  beside  her,  while  the  rest  went  down  to  eat  the 
wedding  feast  and  see  the  happy  pair  off  in  a  chaise, 
with  the  portmanteau  slung  underneath,  on  their  quiet 
honey-moon  trip  to  Pomfret. 

When  the  bustle  was  all  over,  Abby  found  herself  a 
heroine  in  her  small  circle  of  admiring  friends  and 
neighbors,  who  praised  and  petted  her  as  if  she  had 
saved  the  city  from  destruction.  She  needed  comfort 
very  much  ;  for  one  hand  was  so  seriously  injured  that 
it  never  entirely  recovered  from  the  deep  burn,  which 
contracted  two  of  her  finger-tips.  This  was  a  great 
sorrow  to  the  poor  girl ;  for  she  could  no  longer  play 
on  her  piano,  and  was  forced  to  content  herself  with 
singing  like  a  lark  when  all  joined  in  the  sweet  old 
ballads  forgotten  now. 

It  was  a  misfortune,  but  it  had  its  happy  side ; 
for,  during  the  long  months  when  she  was  partially 
helpless,  books  were  her  solace,  and  she  studied 
many  things  which  other  duties  or  pleasures  would 
have  crowded  out,  if  "Abby's  poor  hand'*  had  not 
been  an  excuse  for  such  liberty  and  indulgence.  It 
did  not  make  her  selfish,  however,  for  while  regret- 
ting her  uselessness,  she  unexpectedly  found  work  to 


108  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

do  that  made  her  own  life  happy  by  cheering  that  of 
another. 

Lucy  proved  to  be  a  most  intelligent  child  ;  and 
when  Abby  asked  what  return  she  could  make  for  all 
the  little  girl's  loving  service  during  her  trouble,  she 
discovered  that  help  about  lessons  would  be  the  favor 
most  desired.  Lucy's  too  early  cares  had  kept  her 
from  learning  much,  and  now  that  she  had  leisure, 
weak  eyes  forbade  study,  and  she  longed  vainly  to  get 
on  as  her  new  friend  did  ;  for  Abby  was  her  model  in 
all  things,  —  looked  up  to  with  admiration,  love,  and 
wonder. 

"  Father,  I  Ve  been  thinking  that  I  might  read 
Lucy's  lessons  to  her  and  hear  her  recite.  Then  she 
would  n't  grieve  about  being  backward,  and  I  can  be 
eyes  to  her  as  she  is  hands  to  me.  I  can't  sew  or  work 
now,  but  I  can  teach  the  little  I  know.  May  I,  sir1?" 
asked  Abby,  one  morning,  after  reading  a  paper  in  the 
Spectator,  and  having  a  pleasant  talk  about  it  during 
the  happy  half-hour. 

"  A  capital  plan,  daughter,  if  you  are  sure  you  can 
keep  on.  To  begin  and  then  fail  would  leave  the  child 
worse  off  for  the  hope  and  disappointment.  It  will  be 
tiresome  to  go  on  day  after  day,  so  think  well  before 
you  propose  it,"  answered  her  father,  much  pleased 
with  the  idea. 

"  I  can  do  it,  and  I  will !  If  I  get  tired,  I  '11  look 
at  you  and  mother,  —  always  so  faithful  to  what  you 
undertake,  —  and  remember  my  motto,"  cried  Abby, 
anxious  to  follow  the  example  set  her  in  the  daily  life 
of  these  good  parents. 


LITTLE   THINGS.  109 

A  hearty  hand-shake  rewarded  her,  and  she  set  about 
the  new  task  with  a  resolute  purpose  to  succeed.  It 
was  hard  at  first  to  go  back  to  her  early  lessons  and 
read  them  over  and  over  again  to  eager  Lucy,  who  did 
her  best  to  understand,  remember,  and  recite.  But 
good-will  and  gratitude  worked  wonders ;  and  day 
after  day,  week  after  week,  month  after  month,  the 
teaching  went  on,  to  the  great  surprise  and  satisfaction 
of  those  who  watched  this  labor  of  love.  Both  learned 
much,  and  a  very  strong,  sweet  friendship  grew  up, 
which  lasted  till  the  young  girls  became  old  women. 

For  nearly  two  years  the  daily  lessons  were  contin- 
ued ;  then  Lucy  was  ready  and  able  to  go  to  school, 
and  Abby  free  from  the  duty  that  had  grown  a 
pleasure.  Sister  Catherine  being  gone,  she  was  the 
young  lady  of  the  house  now,  and  began  to  go  to  a 
few  parties,  where  she  distinguished  herself  by  her 
graceful  dancing,  and  sprightly  though  modest  man- 
ners. She  had  grown  strong  and  rosy  with  the  exer- 
cise her  sensible  mother  prescribed  and  her  energetic 
father  encouraged,  taking  long  walks  with  her  to  Pcox- 
bury  and  Dorchester  on  holidays,  over  bridges  and 
around  the  common  before  breakfast  each  morning, 
till  the  pale  little  girl  was  a  tall  and  blooming  creature, 
full  of  life  and  spirit,  —  not  exactly  beautiful,  but  with 
a  sweet,  intelligent  face,  and  the  frank,  cordial  ways 
that  are  so  charming.  Her  brother  Sam  was  very 
proud  of  her,  and  liked  to  see  her  surrounded  by  his 
friends  at  the  merry-makings  to  which  he  escorted 
her ;  for  she  talked  as  well  as  she  danced,  and  the 
older  gentlemen  enjoyed  a  good  chat  with  Miss  Abby 


110  SPINNING- WHEEL  STORIES. 

as  much  as  the  younger  ones  did  the  elaborate  pigeon- 
wings  and  pirouettes  then  in  vogue. 

Among  the  older  men  was  one  whom  Abby  much 
admired ;  for  he  had  fought,  travelled,  and  studied 
more  than  most  men  of  his  age,  and  earned  the  honors 
he  wore  so  modestly.  She  was  never  tired  of  asking 
him  questions  when  they  met,  and  he  never  seemed 
tired  of  giving  long,  interesting  replies ;  so  they  often 
sat  and  talked  while  others  danced,  and  Abby  never 
guessed  that  he  was  studying  her  bright  face  and  in- 
nocent heart  as  eagerly  as  she  listened  to  his  agreeable 
conversation  and  stirring  adventures. 

Presently  he  came  to  the  house  with  brother  Sam, 
who  shared  Abby's  regard  for  him  ;  and  there,  while 
the  young  men  amused  themselves,  or  paid  their  re- 
spects to  the  elders,  one  of  them  was  still  watching 
the  tall  girl  with  the  crown  of  brown  hair,  as  she  sat 
by  her  father,  poured  the  tea  for  Madam,  laughed  with 
her  brother,  or  made  bashful  Lucy  share  their  pleas- 
ures ;  always  so  busy,  dutiful,  and  winning,  that  the 
visitor  pronounced  Mr.  Lyon's  the  most  delightful 
house  in  Boston.  He  heard  all  the  little  tales  of 
Abby's  youth  from  Sam,  and  Lucy  added  her  tribute 
with  the  eloquence  of  a  grateful  heart ;  he  saw  how 
loved  and  trusted  she  was,  and  he  soon  longed  to 
know  how  she  would  answer  the  question  he  desired 
to  ask  her.  Having  received  permission  from  Papa, 
in  the  decorous  old  style,  he  only  waited  for  an 
opportunity  to  discover  if  charming  Abigail  would 
consent  to  change  her  name  from  Lyon  to  Lamb ; 
and,  as  if  her  lesson  was  to  be  quite  complete,  a  little 


LITTLE   THINGS.  Ill 

thing  decided  her  fate  aud  made  a  very  happy  woman 
of  the  good  girl. 

On  Abby's  seventeenth  birthday,  there  was  to  be  a 
party  in  her  honor,  at  the  hospitable  family  mansion, 
to  which  all  her  friends  were  invited ;  and,  when  she 
came  down  early  to  see  that  all  was  in  order,  she 
found  one'  impatient  guest  had  already  arrived. 

It  was  not  alone  the  consciousness  that  the  new 
pink  taffeta  gown  and  the  wreath  of  white  roses 
were  very  becoming  which  made  her  blush  so  prettily 
as  she  thanked  her  friend  for  the  fine  nosegay  he 
brought  her,  but  something  in  his  face,  though  he 
only  wished  her  many  happy  returns  in  a  hearty  way, 
and  then  added,  laughing,  as  the  last  button  flew  off 
the  glove  he  was  awkwardly  trying  to  fasten,  — 

"  It  is  evident  that  you  did  n't  sew  on  these  but- 
tons, Miss  Abby.  I  've  observed  that  Sam's  never 
come  off,  and  he  says  you  always  keep  them  in 
order." 

"  Let  me  put  one  on  for  you.  It  will  take  but  a 
moment,  and  you  '11  be  so  uncomfortable  without 
it,"  said  Abby,  glad  to  find  employment  for  her 
eyes. 

A  minute  afterward  she  was  sorry  she  had  offered ; 
for  he  accepted  the  little  service  with  thanks,  and 
stood  watching  while  she  sat  down  at  her  work-table 
and  began  to  sew.  She  was  very  sensitive  about  her 
hand,  yet  ashamed  of  being  so;  for  the  scar  was 
inside  and  the  drawn  fingers  showed  very  little,  as  it 
is  natural  to  half  close  them.  She  hoped  he  had 
never   seen   it,   and   tried  to  hide  it  as  she  worked. 


112  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

But  this,  or  some  new  consciousness,  made  her  usu- 
ally nimble  fingers  lose  their  skill,  and  she  knotted  the 
silk,  split  the  button,  and  dropped  her  thimble, 
growing  angry  with  herself  for  being  so  silly  and 
getting  so  red  and  flurried. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  'm  giving  you  a  deal  of  trouble," 
said  the  gentleman,  who  was  watching  the  white 
hand  with  great  interest. 

"  No ;  it  is  I  who  am  foolish  about  my  burnt 
hands,"  answered  Abby,  in  her  frank,  impetuous  way. 
"See  how  ugly  it  is  !  "  And  she  held  it  out,  as  if  to 
punish  herself  for  the  girlish  feeling  she  despised. 

The  answer  to  this  little  outburst  made  her  for- 
get everything  but  the  sweetest  pleasure  and  sur- 
prise ;  for,  kissing  the  scarred  palm  with  tender  respect, 
her  lover  said  :  — 

"To  me  it   is  the  finest  and  the  dearest  hand  in 
the  world.     I  know  the  brave  story,  and  I  've   seen 
the  good  this  generous  hand  is  never  tired  of  doing. 
I    want    it   for   my   own.     Will   you   give   it  to  me 
dear?" 

Abby  must  have  answered,  "  Yes ; "  for  she  wore  a 
new  ring  under  her  glove  that  night,  and  danced 
as  if  there  were  wings  on  the  heels  of  her  pink 
shoes. 

Whether  the  button  ever  got  sewed  on  or  not,  no 
one  knows ;  but  that  bit  of  needlework  was  even  more 
successful  than  the  other  small  job  ;  for  in  due  time 
there  was  a  second  wedding,  without  a  fire,  and  Abby 
went  away  to  a  happy  home  of  her  own,  leaving 
sister  Lucy  to  fill  her  place  and  be  the  most  loving 


LITTLE   THINGS. 


113 


and  faithful  of  daughters  to  her  benefactors  while 
they   lived. 

Long  years  afterward,  when  she  had  children  and 
grandchildren  about  her,  listening  to  the  true  old 
stories  that  are  the  best,  Abby  used  to  say,  with  her 
own  cheerful  laugh  :  — 

"  My  father  and  mother  taught  me  many  useful 
lessons,  but  none  more  valuable  than  those  I  learned 
that  year;  and  I  may  honestly  say  that  patience, 
perseverance,  courage,  friendship,  and  love,  came  out 
of  that  silk  stocking.  So  let  me  give  you  this  bit  of 
advice  :  Don't  despise  little  things,  my  dears  !  " 


Larks  were  singing  in  the  clear 
sky  over  Dinan,  the  hill-sides  were 
white  with  hosts  of  blooming  cherry- 
trees,  and  the  valley  golden  with  wil- 
low blossoms.  The  gray  tower  of  the 
good  Duchess  Anne  was  hung  with 
garlands  of  ivy  and  gay  with  tufts  of 
fragrant  wallflowers,  and  alon< 
fosse  the  shadows  deepened  daily  as 
the  young  leave?  thickened  on  the 
interlacing  branches  overhead.  Women  sang  while 
they  beat  their  clothes  by  the  pool ;  wooden  shoes 
clattered  to  and  fro  as  the  girls  brought  water  from 
the  fountain  in  Place  St.  Louis ;  men,  with  their 
long  hair,  embroidered  jackets,  and  baggy  breeches, 
drank  cider  at  the  inn  doors;  and  the  great  Breton 
horses  shook  their  high  collars  till  the  bells  rang 
again,  as  they  passed  along  the  roads  that  wound 
between  wide  fields  of  colza,  buckwheat,  and  clover. 


116  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Up  at  the  chateau,  which  stood  near  the  ruins  of 
the  ancient  castle,  the  great  banner  streamed  in  the 
wind,  showing,  as  its  folds  blew  out,  the  device  and 
motto  of  the  Beaumanoira  —  two  clasped  hands  and 
the  legend,  "En  tout  chemm  loyaute."*     In  the  court- 
yard, hounds    brayed,    horses   pranced,    and    servants 
hurried  about;  for  the  count  was  going  to  hunt  the 
wild  boar.     Presently,  away  they  went,  with  the  merry 
music  of  horns,  the  clatter  of  hoofs,  and   the  blithe 
ring  of  voices,  till  the  pleasant  clamor  died  away  in 
the  distant  woods,  where  mistletoe  clung  to  the  great 
oaks   and  menhirs  and  dolmens,  mysterious  relics  of 
the  Druids,  were  to  be  seen. 

From  one  of  the  windows  of  the  chateau-tower  a 
boys  face  looked  out,  full  of  eager  longing, —a  fine, 
strong  face,  but  sullen  now,  with  black  brows,  dark' 
restless  eyes,  and  lips  set,  as  if  rebellious  thoughts  were 
stirring  in  his  mind.  He  watched  the  gay  cavalcade 
disappear,  until  a  sunny  silence  settled  over  the  land- 
scape, broken  only  by  the  larks  and  the  sound  of  a 
girl's  voice  singing.  As  he  listened,  the  frown  smoothed 
itself  from  his  brow,  and  his  eye  brightened  when  it 
rested  on  a  blue-gowned,  white-capped  figure,  sprink- 
ling webs  of  linen,  spread  to  bleach  in  the  green 
meadow  by  the  river  Ranee. 

"If  I  may  not  hunt,  I  '11  away  to  Yvonne  2  and  take 
a  holiday.  She  can  tell  better  tales  than  any  in  this 
weary  book,  the  bane  of  my  life  !  " 

As  he    spoke,    the    boy  struck  a  volume   that  lay 
on  the  wide  ledge,  with  a  petulant  energy  that  sent 
1  Always  loyaL  a  proilounced  Evone. 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANOIR.       117 

it  fluttering  down  into  the  court-yard  below.  Half- 
asharned  and  half-amused,  young  Gaston  peeped  to  see 
if  this  random  shot  had  hit  any  one.  But  all  was  quiet 
and  deserted  now ;  so,  with  a  boyish  laugh  and  a  daring 
glance  at  the  dangerous  descent,  he  said  to  the  doves 
cooing  on  the  roof  overhead  :  "  Here  's  a  fine  pretext 
for  escape.  Being  locked  in,  how  can  I  get  my  lesson 
unless  I  fetch  the  book  1  Tell  no  tales  of  the  time  I 
linger,  and  you  shall  be  well  fed,  my  pretty  birds." 

Then  swinging  himself  out  as  if  it  were  no  new  feat, 
he  climbed  boldly  down  through  the  ivy  that  half  hid 
the  carved  flowers  and  figures  which  made  a  ladder  for 
his  agile  feet. 

The  moment  he  touched  ground,  he  raced  away  like 
a  hound  in  full  scent  to  the  meadow,  where  he  was 
welcomed  by  a  rosy,  brown-eyed  lass,  whose  white 
teeth  shone  as  she  laughed  to  see  him  leap  the  moat, 
dodge  behind  the  wall,  and  come  bounding  toward  her, 
his  hair  streaming  in  the  wind,  and  his  face  full  of 
boyish  satisfaction  in  this  escapade. 

"The  old  tale,"  he  panted,  as  he  threw  himself 
down  upon  the  grass  and  flung  the  recovered  book 
beside  him.  "  This  dreary  Latin  drives  me  mad,  and 
I  will  not  waste  such  days  as  this  poring  over  dull 
pages  like  a  priest,  when  I  should  be  hunting  like  a 
knight  and  gentleman." 

"Nay,  dear  Gaston,  but  you  ought,  for  obedience 
is  the  first  duty  of  the  knight,  and  honor  of  the 
gentleman,"  answered  the  girl,  in  a  soft,  reproachful 
tone,  which  seemed  to  touch  the  lad,  as  the  voice  of  a 
master  tames  a  high-mettled  horse. 


118  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

"  Had  Father  Nevin  trusted  to  my  honor,  I  would 
not  have  run  away ;  but  he  locked  me  in,  like  a  monk 
in  a  cell,  and  that  I  will  not  bear.  Just  one  hour, 
Yvonne,  one  little  hour  of  freedom,  then  I  will  go 
back,  else  there  will  be  no  sport  for  me  to-morrow," 
said  the  lad,  recklessly  pulling  up  the  bluets  that 
starred  the  grass  about  him. 

"  Ah,  if  I  were  set  to  such  a  task,  I  would  so  gladly 
learn  it,  that  I  might  be  a  fitter  friend  for  you,"  said 
the  girl,  reverently  turning  the  pages  of  the  book  she 
could  not  read. 

"No  need  of  that;  I  like  you  as  you  are,  and  by 
my  faith,  I  doubt  your  great  willingness,  for  when  I 
last  played  tutor  and  left  you  to  spell  out  the  pretty 
legend  of  St.  Coventin  and  his  little  fish,  I  found  you 
fast  asleep  with  the  blessed  book  upon  the  floor," 
laughed  Gaston,  turning  the  tables  on  his  mentor, 
with  great  satisfaction. 

The  girl  laughed  also  as  she  retorted,  "My  tutor 
should  not  have  left  me  to  play  with  his  dogs.  I  bore 
my  penance  better  than  you,  and  did  not  run  away. 
Come  now,  we'll  be  merry.  Will  you  talk,  or  shall 
I  sing,  while  you  rest  this  hot  head,  and  dream  of 
horse  and  hound  and  spearing  the  wild  boar1?"  added 
Yvonne,  smoothing  the  locks  of  hair  scattered  on  the 
grass,  with  a  touch  as  gentle  as  if  the  hand  were  that 
of  a  lady,  and  not  that  of  a  peasant,  rough  with  hard 
work. 

"  Since  I  may  not  play  a  man's  part  yet,  amuse  me 
like  a  boy,  with  the  old  tales  your  mother  used  to  tell, 
when  we  watched  the  fagots  blaze  in  the  winter  nights. 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANOIR.       119 

It  is  long  since  I  have  heard  one,  and  I  am  never  tired 
hearing  of  the  deeds  I  mean  to  match,  if  not  outdo, 
some  day. 

"  Let  me  think  a  bit  till  I  remember  your  favorites, 
and  do  you  listen  to  the  bees  above  there  in  the 
willow,  setting  you  a  good  example,  idle  boy,"  said 
Yvonne,  spreading  a  coarse  apron  for  his  head,  while 
she  sat  beside  him  racking  her  brain  for  tales  to  beguile 
this  truant  hour. 

Her  father  was  the  count's  forester,  and  when  the 
countess  had  died  some  sixteen  years  before,  leaving 
a  month-old  boy,  good  dame  Gillian  had  taken  the 
motherless  baby,  and  nursed  and  reared  him  with  her 
little  girl,  so  faithfully  and  tenderly  that  the  count 
never  could  forget  the  loyal  service.  As  babies,  the 
two  slept  in  one  cradle ;  as  children  they  played  and 
quarrelled  together ;  and  as  boy  and  girl  they  defended, 
comforted,  and  amused  each  other.  But  time  brought 
inevitable  changes,  and  both  felt  that  the  hour  of 
separation  was  near ;  for,  while  Yvonne  went  on  lead- 
ing the  peasant  life  to  which  she  was  born,  Gaston 
was  receiving  the  education  befitting  a  young  count. 
The  chaplain  taught  him  to  read  and  write,  with 
lessons  in  sacred  history,  and  a  little  Latin ;  of  the 
forester  he  learned  woodcraft ;  and  his  father  taught 
him  horsemanship  and  the  use  of  arms,  accomplish- 
ments considered  all-important  in  those  days. 

Gaston  cared  nothing  for  books,  except  such  as  told 
tales  of  chivalry  ;  but  dearly  loved  athletic  sports,  and 
at  sixteen  rode  the  most  fiery  horse  without  a  fall, 
handled  a  sword  admirably,  could  kill  a  boar  at  the 


120  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

first  shot,  and  longed  ardently  for  war,  that  he  might 
prove  himself  a  man.  A  brave,  high-spirited,  generous 
boy,  with  a  very  tender  spot  in  his  heart  for  the  good 
woman  who  had  been  a  mother  to  him,  and  his  little 
foster-sister,  whose  idol  he  was.  For  days  he  seemed 
to  forget  these  humble  friends,  and  led  the  gay,  active 
life  of  his  age  and  rank ;  but  if  wounded  in  the  chase, 
worried  by  the  chaplain,  disappointed  in  any  plan,  or 
in  disgrace  for  any  prank,  he  turned  instinctively  to 
Dame  Gillian  and  Yvonne,  sure  of  help  and  comfort 
for  mind  and  body. 

Companionship  with  him  had  refined  the  girl,  and 
given  her  glimpses  of  a  world  into  which  she  could 
never  enter,  yet  where  she  could  follow  with  eager 
eyes  and  high  hopes  the  fortunes  of  this  dear  Gaston, 
who  was  both  her  prince  and  brother.  Her  influence 
over  him  was  great,  for  she  was  of  a  calm  and  patient 
nature,  as  well  as  brave  and  prudent  beyond  her 
years.  His  will  was  law  ;  yet  in  seeming  to  obey, 
she  often  led  him,  and  he  thanked  her  for  the  courage 
with  which  she  helped  him  to  control  his  fiery  temper 
and  strong  will.  Now,  as  she  glanced  at  him  she  saw 
that  he  was  already  growing  more  tranquil,  under 
the  soothing  influences  of  the  murmuring  river,  the 
soft  flicker  of  the  sunshine,  and  a  blessed  sense  of 
freedom. 

So,  while  she  twisted  her  distaff,  she  told  the  stir- 
ring tales  of  warriors,  saints,  and  fairies,  whom  all 
Breton  peasants  honor,  love,  and  fear.  But  best  of  all 
was  the  tale  of  Gaston's  own  ancestor,  Jean  de  Beau- 
manoir,   "the  hero  of  Ploermel,  where,  when   sorely 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANOIR.       121 

wounded  and  parched  with  thirst,  he  cried  for  water, 
and  Geoffrey  du  Bois  answered,  like  a  grim  old  warrior 
as  he  was,  '  Drink  thy  blood,  Beaumanoir,  and  the 
thirst  will  pass ; '  and  he  drank,  and  the  battle  mad- 
ness seized  him,  and  he  slew  ten  men,  winning  the 
fight  against  great  odds,  to  his  everlasting  glory." 

"  Ah,  those  were  the  times  to  live  in  !  If  they  could 
only  come  again,  I  would  be  a  second  Jean  !  " 

Gaston  sprung  to  his  feet  as  he  spoke,  all  aglow  with 
the  warlike  ardor  of  his  race,  and  Yvonne  looked  up  at 
him,  sure  that  he  would  prove  himself  a  worthy  de- 
scendant of  the  great  baron  and  his  wife,  the  daughter 
of  the  brave  Du  Guesclin. 

"  But  you  shall  not  be  treacherously  killed,  as  he 
was;  for  I  will  save  you,  as  the  peasant  woman  saved 
poor  Giles  de  Bretagne  when  starving  in  the  tower, 
or  fight  for  you,  as  Jeanne  d'Arc  fought  for  her  lord," 
answered  Yvonne,  dropping  her  distaff  to  stretch  out 
her  hand  to  him  ;  for  she,  too,  was  on  her  feet. 

Gaston  took  the  faithful  hand,  and  pointing  to  the 
white  banner  floating  over  the  ruins  of  the  old  castle, 
said  heartily  :  "  "We  will  always  stand  by  one  another, 
and  be  true  to  the  motto  of  our  house  till  death." 

"  We  will ! "  answered  the  girl,  and  both  kept  the 
promise  loyally,  as  we  shall  see. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  sound  of  hoofs  made  the 
young  enthusiasts  start  and  look  toward  the  road  that 
wound  through  the  valley  to  the  hill.  An  old  man 
on  a  slowly  pacing  mule  was  all  they  saw,  but  the 
change  that  came  over  both  was  comical  in  its  sud- 
denness ;  for  the  gallant   knight  turned  to  a  truant 


122  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

school-boy,  daunted  by  the  sight  of  his  tutor,  while 
the  rival  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  grew  pale  with 
dismay. 

"  I  am  lost  if  he  spy  me,  for  my  father  vowed  I 
should  not  hunt  again  unless  I  did  my  task.  He  will 
see  me  if  I  run,  and  where  can  I  hide  till  he  has  past  1 " 
whispered  Gaston,  ashamed  of  his  panic,  yet  unwilling 
to  pay  the  penalty  of  his  prank. 

But  quick-witted  Yvonne  saved  him ;  for  lifting  one 
end  of  the  long  web  of  linen,  she  showed  a  hollow 
whence  some  great  stone  had  been  removed,  and 
Gaston  slipped  into  the  green  nest,  over  which  the 
linen  lay  smoothly  when  replaced. 

On  came  the  chaplain,  glancing  sharply  about  him, 
being  of  an  austere  and  suspicious  nature.  He  saw 
nothing,  however,  but  the  peasant  girl  in  her  quaint 
cap  and  wooden  sabots,  singing  to  herself  as  she  leaned 
against  a  tree,  with  her  earthen  jug  in  her  hand.  The 
mule  paused  in  the  light  shadow  of  the  willows,  to  crop 
a  mouthful  of  grass  before  climbing  the  hill,  and  the 
chaplain  seemed  glad  to  rest  a  moment,  for  the  day 
was  warm  and  the  road  dusty. 

"  Come  hither,  child,  and  give  me  a  draught  of 
water,"  he  called,  and  the  girl  ran  to  fill  her  pitcher, 
offering  it  with  a  low  reverence. 

"  Thanks,  daughter  !  A  fine  day  for  the  bleaching, 
but  over  warm  for  much  travel.  Go  to  your  work, 
child  ;  I  will  tarry  a  moment  in  the  shade  before  I 
return  to  my  hard  task  of  sharpening  a  dull  youth's 
wit,"  said  the  old  man  when  he  had  drunk;  and  with 
a  frowning  glance  at  the  room  where  he  had  left  his 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANOIR.       123 

prisoner,  he  drew  a  breviary  from  his  pocket  and  began 
to  read,  while  the  mule  browsed  along  the  road-side. 

Yvonne  went  to  sprinkling  the  neglected  linen, 
wondering  with  mingled  anxiety  and  girlish  merriment 
how  Gaston  fared.  The  sun  shone  hotly  on  the  dry 
cloth,  and  as  she  approached  the  boy's  hiding-place, 
a  stir  would  have  betrayed  him  had  the  chaplain's 
eyes  been  lifted. 

"  Sprinkle  me  quickly  j  I  am  stifling  in  this  hole," 
whispered  an  imploring  voice. 

"  Drink  thy  blood,  Beaumanoir,  and  the  thirst  will 
pass,"  quoted  Yvonne,  taking  a  naughty  satisfaction 
in  the  ignominious  captivity  of  the  wilful  boy.  A  long 
sigh  was  the  only  answer  he  gave,  and  taking  pity  on 
him,  she  made  a  little  hollow  in  the  linen  where  she 
knew  his  head  lay,  and  poured  in  water  till  a  choking 
sound  assured  her  Gaston  had  enough.  The  chaplain 
looked  up,  but  the  girl  coughed  loudly,  as  she  went  to 
refill  her  jug,  with  such  a  demure  face  that  he  sus- 
pected nothing,  and  presently  ambled  away  to  seek 
his  refractory  pupil. 

The  moment  he  disappeared,  a  small  earthquake 
seemed  to  take  place  under  the  linen,  for  it  flew  up 
violently,  and  a  pair  of  long  legs  waved  joyfully  in  the 
air  as  Gaston  burst  into  a  ringing  laugh,  which 
Yvonne  echoed  heartily.  Then,  springing  up,  he  said, 
throwing  back  his  wet  hair  and  shaking  his  finger 
at  her :  "  You  dared  not  betray  me,  but  you  nearly 
drowned  me,  wicked  girl.  I  cannot  stop  for  ven- 
geance now ;  but  I  '11  toss  you  into  the  river  some 
day,  and  leave  you  to  get  out  as  you  can." 


124  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Then  he  was  off  as  quickly  as  he  came,  eager  to 
reach  his  prison  again  before  the  chaplain  came  to 
hear  the  unlearned  lesson.  Yvonne  watched  him  till 
he  climbed  safely  in  at  the  high  window  and  disap- 
peared with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  when  she,  too,  went 
back  to  her  work,  little  dreaming  what  brave  parts 
both  were  to  play  in  dangers  and  captivities  of  which 
these  youthful  pranks  and  perils  were  but  a  fore- 
shadowing. 

Two  years  later,  in  the  month  of  March,  1793,  the 
insurrection  broke  out  in  Vendee,  and  Gaston  had  his 
wish  ;  for  the  old  count  had  been  an  officer  of  the 
king's  household,  and  hastened  to  prove  his  loyalty. 
Yvonne's  heart  beat  high  with  pride  as  she  saw  her 
foster-brother  ride  gallantly  away  beside  his  father, 
witli  a  hundred  armed  vassals  behind  them,  and  the 
white  banner  fluttering  above  their  heads  in  the  fresh 
wind. 

She  longed  to  go  with  him ;  but  her  part  was  to 
watch  and  wait,  to  hope  and  pray,  till  the  hour  came 
when  she,  like  many  another  woman  in  those  days, 
could  prove  herself  as  brave  as  a  man,  and  freely 
risk  her  life  for  those  she  loved. 

Four  months  later  the  heavy  tidings  reached  them 
that  the  old  count  was  killed  and  Gaston  taken  pris- 
oner. Great  was  the  lamentation  among  the  old 
men,  women,  and  children  left  behind ;  but  they  had 
little  time  for  sorrow,  for  a  band  of  the  marauding 
Vendeans  burned  the  chateau,  and  laid  waste  the 
Abbey. 

"  Now,  mother,  I  must  up  and  away   to  find  and 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANGIR.       125 

rescue  Gaston.  I  promised,  and  if  he  lives,  it  shall 
be  done.  Let  me  go  ;  you  are  safe  now,  and  there  is 
no  rest  for  me  till  I  know  how  he  fares,"  said  Yvonne, 
when  the  raid  was  over,  and  the  frightened  peasants 
ventured  to  return  from  the  neighboring  forests, 
whither  they  had  hastily  fled  for  protection. 

"  Go,  my  girl,  and  bring  me  news  of  our  young 
lord.  May  you  lead  him  safely  home  again  to  rule 
over  us,"  answered  Dame  Gillian,  devoted  still,  —  for 
her  husband  was  reported  dead  with  his  master,  yet 
she  let  her  daughter  go  without  a  murmur,  feeling 
that  no  sacrifice  was  too  great. 

So  Yvonne  set  out,  taking  with  her  Gaston's  pet 
dove  and  the  little  sum  of  money  carefully  hoarded 
for  her  marriage  portion.  The  pretty  winged  crea- 
ture, frightened  by  the  destruction  of  its  home,  had 
flown  to  her  for  refuge,  and  she  had  cherished  it  for 
its  master's  sake.  Now,  when  it  would  not  leave  her, 
but  came  circling  around  her  head  a  league  away 
from  Dinan,  she  accepted  the  good  omen,  and  made 
the  bird  the  companion  of  her  perilous  journey. 

There  is  no  room  to  tell  all  the  dangers,  disappoint- 
ments, and  fatigues  endured  before  she  found  Gaston  ; 
but  after  being  often  misled  by  false  rumors,  she  at 
last  discovered  that  he  was  a  prisoner  in  Fort  Pen- 
thievre.  His  own  reckless  courage  had  brought  him 
there ;  for  in  one  of  the  many  skirmishes  in  which  he 
had  taken  part,  he  ventured  too  far  away  from  his 
men,  and  was  captured  after  fighting  desperately  to 
cut  his  way  out.  Now,  alone  in  his  cell,  he  raged 
like  a  caged  eagle,  feeling  that  there  was  no  hope  of 


126  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

escape ;  for  the  fort  stood  on  a  plateau  of  precipitous 
rock  washed  on  two  sides  by  the  sea.  He  had  heard 
of  the  massacre  of  the  royalist  emigrants  who  landed 
there,  and  tried  to  prepare  himself  for  a  like  fate, 
hoping  to  die  as  bravely  as  young  Sombreuil,  who 
was  shot  with  twenty  others  on  what  was  afterward 
named  the  "  Champ  cles  Martyrs"  1  His  last  words, 
when  ordered  by  the  executioner  to  kneel,  were,  "I 
do  it ;  but  one  knee  I  bend  for  my  God,  the  other  for 
my  king." 

Day  after  day  Gaston  looked  down  from  his  narrow 
window,  past  which  the  gulls  flew  screaming,  and 
watched  the  fishers  at  their  work,  the  women  gath- 
ering sea-weed  on  the  shore,  and  the  white  sails 
flitting  across  the  bay  of  Quiberon.  Bitterly  did  he 
regret  the  wilfulness  which  brought  him  there,  well 
knowing  that  if  he  had  obeyed  orders  he  would  now 
be  free  to  find  his  father's  body  and  avenge  his 
death. 

"  Oh,  for  one  day  of  liberty,  one  hope  of  escape, 
one  friend  to  cheer  this  dreadful  solitude  !  "  he  cried, 
when  weeks  had  passed  and  he  seemed  utterly 
forgotten. 

As  he  spoke,  he  shook  the  heavy  bars  with  im- 
potent strength,  then  bent  his  head  as  if  to  hide  even 
from  himself  the  few  hot  tears  wrung  from  him  by 
captivity  and  despair. 

Standing  so,  with  eyes  too  dim  for  seeing,  some- 
thing brushed  against  his  hair,  and  a  bird  lit  on  the 
narrow  ledge.     He  thought  it   was  a  gull,  and  paid 

1  The  Field  of  Martyrs. 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANOIR.       127 

no  heed ;  but  in  a  moment  a  soft  coo  started  him, 
and  looking  up,  he  saw  a  white  dove  struggling  to 
get  in. 

"  Blanchette  ! "  he  cried,  and  the  pretty  creature 
flew  to  his  hand,  pecking  at  his  lips  in  the  old  ca- 
ressing way  he  knew  so  well. 

"  My  faithful  bird,  God  bless  thee  ! "  exclaimed  the 
poor  lad,  holding  the  dove  close  against  his  cheek  to 
hide  the  trembling  of  his  lip,  —  so  touched,  so  glad 
was  he  to  find  in  his  dreary  prison  even  a  dumb  friend 
and  comforter. 

But  Blanchette  had  her  part  to  play,  and  pres- 
ently fluttered  back  to  the  window  ledge,  cooing 
loudly  as  she  pecked  at  something  underneath  her 
wing. 

Then  Gaston  remembered  how  he  used  to  send 
messages  to  Yvonne  by  this  carrier-dove,  and  with 
a  thrill  of  joy  looked  for  the  token,  hardly  daring  to 
hope  that  any  would  be  found.  Yes !  there,  tied 
carefully  among  the  white  feathers,  was  a  tiny  roll  of 
paper,  with  these  words  rudely  written  on  it :  — 
"Be  ready  ;  help  will  come.  Y." 
"  The  brave  girl !  the  loyal  heart !  I  might  have 
known  she  would  keep  her  promise,  and  come  to 
save  me ; "  and  Gaston  dropped  on  his  knees  in 
gratitude. 

Blanchette  meantime  tripped  about  the  cell  on 
her  little  rosy  feet,  ate  a  few  crumbs  of  the  hard 
bread,  dipped  her  beak  in  the  jug  of  water,  dressed 
her  feathers  daintily,  then  flew  to  the  bars  and  called 
him.     He    had  nothing   to  send   back   by   this   sure 


128  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

messenger  but  a  lock  of  hair,  and  this  he  tied  with 
the  same  thread,  in  place  of  the  note.  Then  kissing 
the  bird  he  bade  it  go,  watching  the  silver  wings 
flash  in  the  sunshine  as  it  flew  away,  carrying  joy 
with  it  and  leaving  hope  behind. 

After  that  the  little  courier  came  often  unper- 
ceived,  carrying  letters  to  and  fro ;  for  Yvonne  sent 
bits  of  paper,  and  Gaston  wrote  his  answers  with 
his  blood  and  a  quill  from  Blanchette's  wing.  He 
thus  learned  how  Yvonne  was  living  in  a  fisher's  hut 
on  the  beach,  and  working  for  his  rescue  as  well  as 
she  dared.  Every  day  she  might  be  seen  gathering 
sea-weed  on  the  rocks  or  twirling  her  distaff  at  the 
door  of  the  dilapidated  hut,  not  as  a  young  girl,  but 
as  an  old  woman ;  for  she  had  stained  her  fair  skin, 
put  on  ragged  clothes,  and  hidden  her  fresh  face 
under  the  pent-house  cap  worn  by  the  women  of 
Quiberon.  Her  neighbors  thought  her  a  poor  soul 
left  desolate  by  the  war,  and  let  her  live  unmolested. 
So  she  worked  on  secretly  and  steadily,  playing  her 
part  well,  and  biding  her  time  till  the  long  hempen 
rope  was  made,  the  sharp  file  procured  unsuspected, 
and  a  boat  ready  to  receive  the  fugitives. 

Her  plan  was  perilously  simple,  but  the  only  one 
possible ;  for  Gaston  was  well  guarded,  and  out  of 
that  lofty  cell  it  seemed  that  no  prisoner  could  escape 
without  wings.  A  bird  and  a  woman  lent  him  those 
wings,  and  his  daring  flight  was  a  nine  days'  wonder 
at  the  fort.  Only  a  youth  accustomed  to  feats  of 
agility  and  strength  could  have  safely-  made  that 
dangerous  escape  along  the  face  of  the  cliff  that  rose 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANOIR.       129 

straight  up  from  the  shore.  But  Gaston  was  well 
trained,  and  the  boyish  pranks  that  used  to  bring  him 
into  dire  disgrace  now  helped  to  save  his  life. 

Thus,  when  the  order  came,  written  in  the  rude 
hand  he  had  taught  Yvonne  long  ago,  "  Pull  up  the 
thread  which  Blanchette  will  bring  at  midnight. 
Watch  for  a  light  in  the  bay.  Then  come  down,  and 
St.  Barbe  protect  you,"  he  was  ready  ■  for  the  tiny  file 
of  watch-spring,  brought  by  the  bird,  had  secretly  done 
its  work,  and  several  bars  were  loose.  He  knew  that  the 
attempt  might  cost  him  his  life,  but  was  willing  to  gain 
liberty  even  at  that  price  ;  for  imprisonment  seemed 
worse  than  death  to  his  impatient  spirit.  The  jailer 
went  his  last  round,  the  great  bell  struck  the  ap- 
pointed hour,  and  Gaston  stood  at  the  window, 
straining  his  eyes  to  catch  the  first  ray  of  the  prom- 
ised light,  when  the  soft  whir  of  wings  gladdened  his 
ear,  and  Blanchette  arrived,  looking  scared  and  wet 
and  weary,  for  rain  fell,  the  wind  blew  fitfully,  and 
the  poor  bird  was  unused  to  such  wild  work  as  this. 
But  obedient  to  its  training,  it  flew  to  its  master; 
and  no  angel  could  have  been  more  welcome  than  the 
storm-beaten  little  creature  as  it  nestled  in  his  bosom, 
while  he  untangled  the  lengths  of  strong  thread  wound 
about  one  of  its  feet. 

He  knew  what  to  do,  and  tying  a  bit  of  the  broken 
bar  to  one  end,  as  a  weight,  he  let  it  down,  praying  that 
no  cruel  gust  would  break  or  blow  it  away.  In  a  mo- 
ment a  quick  jerk  at  the  thread  bade  him  pull  again. 
A  cord  came  up,  and  when  that  was  firmly  secured,  a 
second  jerk  was  the  signal  for  the  last  and  most 
9 


130  SPINXTNG-WHEEL    STORIES. 

important  haul.  Up  came  the  stout  rope,  knotted 
here  and  there  to  add  safety  and  strength  to  the 
hands  and  feet  that  were  to  climb  down  that  frail 
ladder,  unless  some  cruel  fate  dashed  the  poor  boy 
dead  upon  the  rocks  below.  The  rope  was  made  fast 
to  an  iron  staple  inside,  the  bars  were  torn  away,  and 
Gaston  crept  through  the  narrow  opening  to  perch  on 
the  ledge  without,  while  Blanchette  flew  down  to  tell 
Yvonne  he  was  coming. 

The  moment  the  distant  spark  appeared,  he  be- 
stirred himself,  set  his  teeth,  and  boldly  began  the 
dangerous  descent.  Rain  blinded  him,  the  wind  beat 
him  against  the  rock,  bruising  hands  and  knees,  and 
the  way  seemed  endless,  as  he  climbed  slowly  down, 
clinging  with  the  clutch  of  a  drowning  man,  and 
blessing  Yvonne  for  the  knots  that  kept  him  from 
slipping  when  the  gusts  blew  him  to  and  fro.  More 
than  once  he  thought  it  was  all  over ;  but  the  good 
rope  held  fast,  and  strength  and  courage  nerved  heart 
and  limbs.  One  greater  than  St.  Barbe  upheld  him, 
and  he  dropped  at  last,  breathless  and  bleeding, 
beside  the  faithful  Yvonne. 

There  was  no  time  for  words,  only  a  grasp  of  the 
hand,  a  sigh  of  gratitude,  and  they  were  away  to  the 
boat  that  tossed  on  the  wild  water  with  a  single  rower 
in  his  place. 

"  It  is  our  Hoel.  I  found  him  looking  for  yon.  He 
is  true  as  steel.  In,  in,  and  off,  or  you  are  lost !  " 
whispered  Yvonne,  flinging  a  cloak  about  Gaston, 
thrusting  a  purse,  a  sword,  and  a  flask  into  his  hand, 
and  holding  the  boat  while  he  leaped  in. 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANOIR.       131 

"  But  you  1 "  he  cried ;  "  I  cannot  leave  you  in  peril, 
after  all  you  have  dared  and  done  for  me." 

" No  one  suspects  me;  I  am  safe.  Go  to  my 
mother ;  she  will  hide  you,  and  I  will  follow  soon." 

Waiting  for  no  further  speech,  she  pushed  the  boat 
off,  and  watched  it  vanish  in  the  darkness ;  then  went 
away  to  give  thanks,  and  rest  after  her  long  work  and 
excitement. 

Gaston  reached  home  safely,  and  Dame  Gillian  con- 
cealed him  in  the  ruins  of  the  Abbey,  till  anxiety  for 
Yvonne  drove  him  out  to  seek  and  rescue  in  his  turn. 
For  she  did  not  come,  and  when  a  returning  soldier 
brought  word  that  she  had  been  arrested  in  her  flight, 
and  sent  to  Nantes,  Gaston  could  not  rest,  but  disguis- 
ing himself  as  a  peasant,  went  to  find  her,  accompanied 
by  faithful  Hoel,  who  loved  Yvonne,  and  would  gladly 
die  for  her  and  his  young  master.  Their  hearts  sunk 
when  they  discovered  that  she  was  in  the  Boumay,  an 
old  fortress,  once  a  royal  residence,  and  now  a  prison, 
crowded  with  unfortunate  and  innocent  creatures,  ar- 
rested on  the  slightest  pretexts,  and  guillotined  or 
drowned  by  the  infamous  Carrier.  Hundreds  of  men 
and  women  were  there,  suffering  terribly,  and  among 
them  was  Yvonne,  brave  still,  but  with  no  hope  of 
escape  ;  for  few  were  saved,  and  then  only  by  some 
lucky  accident.  Like  a  sister  of  mercy  she  went  among 
the  poor  souls  crowded  together  in  the  great  halls, 
hungry,  cold,  sick,  and  despairing,  and  they  clung  to 
her  as  if  she  were  some  strong,  sweet  saint  who  could 
deliver  them  or  teach  them  how  to  die. 

After  some  weeks  of  this  terrible  life,  her  name  was 


132  SPLNNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

called  one  morning,  on  the  list  for  that  day's  execution, 
and  she  rose  to  join  the  sad  procession  setting  forth. 

"  Which  is  it  to  be  1 "  she  asked,  as  she  passed  one 
of  the  men  who  guarded  them,  a  rough  fellow,  whose 
face  was  half  hidden  by  a  shaggy  beard. 

"  You  will  be  drowned ;  we  have  no  time  to  waste 
on  women  , "  was  the  brutal  answer ;  but  as  the  words 
passed  his  lips,  a  slip  of  paper  was  pressed  into  her 
hand,  and  these  words  breathed  into  her  ear  by  a 
familiar  voice  :  "lam  here  !  " 

It  was  Gaston,  in  the  midst  of  enemies,  bent  on  sav- 
ing her  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  remembering  all  he  owed 
her,  and  the  motto  of  his  race.  The  shock  of  this  dis- 
covery nearly  betrayed  them  both,  and  turned  her  so 
white  that  the  woman  next  her  put  her  arm  about  her, 
saying  sweetly  :  — 

"  Courage,  my  sister ;  it  is  soon  over." 

"  I  fear  nothing  now  ! "  cried  Yvonne,  and  went  on 
to  take  her  place  in  the  cart,  looking  so  serene  and 
happy  that  those  about  her  thought  her  already  fit  for 
heaven. 

No  need  to  repeat  the  dreadful  history  of  the 
Noyades ;  it  is  enough  to  say  that  in  the  confusion  of 
the  moment  Yvonne  found  opportunity  to  read  and 
destroy  the  little  paper,  which  said  briefly  :  — 

"  When  you  are  flung  into  the  river,  call  my  name 
and  float.     I  shall  be  near." 

She  understood,  and  being  placed  with  a  crowd  of 
wretched  women  on  the  old  vessel  which  lay  in  the 
river  Loire,  she  employed  every  moment  in  loosening 
the  rope  that  tied  her  hands,  and  keeping  her  eye  on 


THE  BANNER  OF  BEAUMANOIR.       133 

the  tall,  bearded  man  who  moved  about  seeming  to  do 
his  work,  while  his  blood  boiled  with  suppressed  wrath, 
and  his  heart  ached  with  unavailing  pity.  It  was  dusk 
before  the  end  came  for  Yvonne,  and  she  was  all  un- 
nerved by  the  sad  sights  she  had  been  forced  to  see ; 
but  when  rude  hands  seized  her,  she  made  ready  for 
the  plunge,  sure  that  Gaston  would  "be  near."  He 
was,  for  in  the  darkness  and  uproar,  he  could  leap 
after  her  unseen,  and  while  she  floated,  he  cut  the  rope, 
then  swam  down  the  river  with  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder  till  they  dared  to  land.  Both  were  nearly 
spent  with  the  excitement  and  exertion  of  that  dread- 
ful hour ;  but  Hoel  waited  for  them  on  the  shore  and 
helped  Gaston  carry  poor  Yvonne  into  a  deserted  house, 
where  they  gave  her  fire,  food,  dry  garments,  and  the 
gladdest  welcome  one  human  creature  ever  gave  to 
another. 

Being  a  robust  peasant,  the  girl  came  safely  through 
hardships  that  would  have  killed  or  crazed  a  frailer 
creature  ;  and  she  was  soon  able  to  rejoice  with  the 
brave  fellows  over  this  escape,  so  audaciously  planned 
and  so  boldly  carried  out.  They  dared  stay  but  a  few 
hours,  and  before  dawn  were  hastening  through  the 
least  frequented  ways  toward  home,  finding  safety  in 
the  distracted  state  of  the  country,  which  made  fugi- 
tives no  unusual  sight,  and  refugees  plentiful.  One 
more  adventure,  and  that  a  happy  one,  completed  their 
joy,  and  turned  their  flight  into  a  triumphant  march. 

Pausing  in  the  depths  of  the  great  forest  of  Hun- 
audaye  to  rest,  the  two  young  men  went  to  find  food, 
leaving  Yvonne  to  tend  the  fire  and  make  ready  to 


134  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

cook  the  venison  they  hoped  to  bring.  It  was  night- 
fall, and  another  day  would  see  them  in  Dinan,  they 
hoped;  but  the  lads  had  consented  to  pause  for  the 
girl's  sake,  for  she  was  worn  out  with  their  ranid  flight. 
They  were  talking  of  their  adventures  in  high  spirits, 
when  Gaston  laid  his  hand  on  HoeTs  mouth  and  pointed 
to  a  green  slope  before  them.  An  early  moon  gave 
light  enough  to  show  them  a  dark  form  moving  quickly 
into  the  coppice,  and  something  like  the  antlers  of  a 
stag  showed  above  the  tall  brakes  before  they  vanished. 
"  Slip  around  and  drive  him  this  way.  I  never  miss 
my  aim,  and  we  will  sup  royally  to-night,"  whispered 
Gaston,  glad  to  use  -the  arms  with  which  they  had  pro- 
vided themselves. 

Hoel  slipped  away,  and  presently  a  rustle  in  the 
wood  betrayed  the  cautious  approach  of  the  deer.  But 
he  was  off  before  a  shot  could  be  fired,  and  the  disap- 
pointed hunters  followed  long  and  far,  resolved  not  to 
go  back  empty-handed.  They  had  to  give  it  up,  how- 
ever, and  were  partially  consoled  by  a  rabbit,  which 
Hoel  flung  over  his  shoulder,  while  Gaston,  forgetting 
caution,  began  to  sing  an  old  song  the  women  of  Brit- 
tany love  so  well :  — 

"  Quand  vous  etiez,  captif,  Bertrand,  fils  de  Bretagne, 
Tous  les  fuseaux  touraaient  aussi  dans  la  campagne." 

He  got  no  further,  for  the  stanza  was  finished  by  a 
voice  that  had  often  joined  in  the  ballad,  when  Dame 
Gillian  sang  it  to  the  children,  as  she  spun  :  — 

"  Chaque  femme  apporte  son  echeveau  de  lin  ; 
Ce  fut  votre  ranc^on,  Messire  du  Guesclin." 


THE  BANNER    OF  BEAUMANOIR.  135 

Both  paused,  thinking  that  some  spirit  of  the  wood 
mocked  them;  but  a  loud  laugh,  and  a  familiar 
"  Holo  !  holo  !  "  made  Hoel  cry,  "  The  forester  !  "  while 
Gaston  dashed  headlong  into  the  thicket  whence  the 
sound  came,  there  to  find  the  jolly  forester,  indeed, 
with  a  slain  deef  by  his  side,  waiting  to  receive  them 
with  open  arms. 

"  I  taught  you  to  stalk  the  deer,  and  spear  the  boar 
not  to  hunt  your  fellow-creatures,  my  lord.  But  I  for- 
give you,  for  it  was  well  done,  and  I  had  a  hard  run  to 
escape,"  he  said,  still  laughing. 

"  But  how  came  you  here  1 "  cried  both  the  youths, 
in  great  excitement ;  for  the  good  man  was  supposed 
to  be  dead,  with  his  old  master. 

"  A  long  tale,  for  which  I  have  a  short  and  happy 
answer.  Come  home  to  supper  with  me,  and  I  '11  show 
you  a  sight  that  will  gladden  hearts  and  eyes,"  he 
answered,  shouldering  his  load  and  leading  the  way  to 
a  deserted  hermitage,  which  had  served  many  a  fugi- 
tive for  a  shelter.  As  they  went,  Gaston  poured  out 
his  story,  and  told  how  Yvonne  was  waiting  for  them 
in  the  wood. 

"  Brave  lads  !  and  here  is  your  reward,"  answered 
the  forester,  pushing  open  the  door  and  pointing  to  the 
figure  of  a  man,  with  a  pale  face  and  bandaged  head, 
lying  asleep  beside  the  fire. 

It  was  the  count,  sorely  wounded,  but  alive,  thanks 
to  his  devoted  follower,  who  had  saved  him  when  the 
fight  was  over  ;  and  after  weeks  of  concealment,  suffer- 
ing, and  anxiety,  had  brought  him  so  far  toward 
home. 


136  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

No  need  to  tell  of  the  happy  meeting  that  night, 
nor  of  the  glad  return  ;  for,  though  the  chateau  was  in 
ruins  and  lives  were  still  in  danger,  they  all  were  to- 
gether, and  the  trials  they  had  passed  through  only 
made  the  ties  of  love  and  loyalty  between  high  and 
low  more  true  and  tender.  Good  Dame  Gillian  housed 
them  all,  and  nursed  her  master  back  to  health. 
Yvonne  and  Hoel  had  a  gay  wedding  in  the  course  of 
time,  and  Gaston  wrent  to  the  wars  again.  A  new  cha- 
teau rose  on  the  ruins  of  the  old,  and  when  the  young 
lord  took  possession,  he  replaced  the  banner  that  was 
lost  with  one  of  fair  linen,  spun  and  woven  by  the  two 
women  wTho  had  been  so  faithful  to  him  and  his,  but 
added  a  white  dove  above  the  clasped  hands  and  gold- 
en legend,  never  so  true  as  now,  — 

"En  tout  chemin  loyaute." 


"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  her  1  She  has  only 
been  here  a  day,  but  it  doesn't  take  us  long  to  make 
up  our  minds,"  said  Nelly  Blake,  the  leader  of  the 
school,  as  a  party  of  girls  stood  chatting  round  the 
register  one  cold  November  morning. 

"  I  like  her,  she  looks  so  fresh  and  pleasant,  and  so 
strong.  I  just  wanted  to  go  and  lean  up  against  her, 
when  my  back  ached  yesterday,"  answered  Maud,  a 
pale  girl  wrapped  in  a  shawl. 

"  I'm  afraid  she 's  very  energetic,  and  I  do  hate  to  be 
hurried,"  sighed  plump  Cordelia,  lounging  in  an  easy 
chair. 

"  I  know  she  is,  for  Biddy  says  she  asked  for  a  pail 
of  cold  water  at  six  this  morning,  and  she  's  out  walk- 
ing now.  Just  think  how  horrid,"  cried  Kitty  with 
a  shiver. 

"  I  wonder  what  she  does  for  her  complexion.  Never 
saw  such  a  lovely  color.  Real  roses  and  cream,"  said 
Julia,  shutting  one  eye  to  survey  the  freckles  on  her 
nose,  with  a  gloomy  frown. 


138  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  I  longed  to  ask  what  sort  of  braces  she  wears,  to 
keep  her  so  straight.  I  mean  to  by  and  by ;  she  looks 
as  if  she  would  n't  snub  a  body ; "  and  Sally  vainly  tried 
to  square  her  own  round  shoulders,  bent  with  much  por- 
ing over  books,  for  she  was  the  bright  girl  of  the  school. 

"  She  wears  French  corsets,  of  course.  Nothing  else 
gives  one  such  a  fine  figure,"  answered  Maud,  dropping 
the  shawl  to  look  with  pride  at  her  own  wasp-like  waist 
and  stiff  back. 

"  Could  n't  move  about  so  easily  and  gracefully  if 
she  wore  a  strait-jacket  like  you.  She 's  not  a  bit  of 
a  fashion  plate,  but  a  splendid  woman,  just  natural  and 
hearty  and  sweet.  I  feel  as  if  I  shouldn't  slouch  and 
poke  so  much  if  I  had  her  to  brace  me  up,"  cried  Sally, 
in  her  enthusiastic  way. 

"  I  know  one  thing,  girls,  and  that  is,  she  can  wear 
a  jersey  and  have  it  set  elegantly,  and  we  can't,"  said 
Kitty,  laboring  with  her  own,  which  would  wrinkle 
and  twist,  in  spite  of  many  hidden  pins. 

"  Yes,  I  looked  at  it  all  breakfast  time,  and  forgot 
my  second  cup  of  coffee,  so  my  head  aches  as  if  it 
would  split.  Never  saw  anything  fit  so  splendidly  in 
my  life,"  answered  Nelly,  turning  to  the  mirror,  which 
reflected  a  fine  assortment  of  many  colored  jerseys  ;  for 
all  the  girls  were  out  in  their  fall  suits,  and  not  one  of 
the  new  jackets  set  like  Miss  Orne's,  the  teacher  who 
had  arrived  to  take  Madame's  place  while  that  excellent 
old  lady  was  laid  up  with  a  rheumatic  fever. 

"  They  are  pretty  and  convenient,  but  I  'm  afraid 
they  will  be  a  trial  to  some  of  us.  Maud  and  Nelly 
look  the  best,  but  they  have  to  keep  stiff  and  still,  or 


JERSEYS  ;    OR,    THE   GIRLS'   GHOST.  139 

the  wrinkles  come.  Kit  has  no  peace  in  hers,  and  poor 
Cordy  looks  more  like  a  meal  bag  than  ever,  while  I 
am  a  perfect  spectacle,  with  my  round  shoulders  and 
long  thin  arms.  '  A  jersey  on  a  bean-pole  '  describes  rne  ; 
but  let  us  be  in  the  fashion  or  die,"  laughed  Sally,  ex- 
aggerating her  own  defects  by  poking  her  head  forward 
and  blinking  through  her  glasses  in  a  funny  way. 

There  was  a  laugh  and  then  a  pause,  broken  in  a 
moment  by  Maud,  who  said,  in  a  tone  of  apprehension: 

"  I  do  hope  Miss  Orne  is  n't  full  of  the  new  notions 
about  clothes  and  food  and  exercise  and  rights  and 
rubbish  of  that  sort.  Mamma  hates  such  ideas,  and  so 
do  I." 

"  I  hope  she  is  full  of  good,  wise  notions  about  health 
and  work  and  study.  It  is  just  what  we  need  in  this 
school.  Madame  is  old  and  lets  things  go,  and  the  oth- 
er teachers  only  care  to  get  through  and  have  an  easy 
time.  We  ought  to  be  a  great  deal  better,  brisker,  and 
wiser  than  we  are,  and  I  'm  ready  for  a  good  stirring 
up  if  any  one  will  give  it  to  us,"  declared  Sally,  who 
was  a  very  independent  girl  and  had  read  as  well  as 
studied  much. 

"  You  Massachusetts  girls  are  always  raving  about 
self-culture,  and  ready  for  queer  new  ways.  I  'm  con- 
tented with  the  old  ones,  and  want  to  be  let  alone  and 
finished  off  easily,"  said  Nelly,  the  pretty  New  Yorker. 

"  Well,  I  go  with  Sally,  and  want  to  get  all  I  can  in 
the  way  of  health,  learning,  and  manners  while  I'm 
here  ;  and  I  'm  real  glad  Miss  Orne  has  come,  for  Ma- 
dame's  old-fashioned,  niminy  priminy  ways  did  fret  me 
dreadfully.    Miss  Orne  is  more  like  our  folks  out  West, 


140  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

—  spry  and  strong  and  smart,  see  if  she  is  n't,"  said 
Julia,  with  a  decided  nod  of  her  auburn  head. 

"  There  she  is  now  !  Girls,  she  's  running  !  actually 
trotting  up  the  avenue  —  not  like  a  hen,  but  a  boy  — 
with  her  elbows  down  and  her  head  up.  Do  come  and 
see ! "  cried  Kitty,  dancing  about  at  the  window  as  if 
she  longed  to  go  and  do  likewise. 

All  ran  in  time  to  see  a  tall  young  lady  come  up  the 
wide  path  at  a  good  pace,  looking  as  fresh  and  blithe 
as  the  goddess  of  health,  as  she  smiled  and  nodded  at 
them,  so  like  a  girl  that  all  returned  her  salute  with 
equal  cordiality. 

"  She  gives  a  new  sort  of  interest  to  the  old  tread- 
mill, does  n't  she  1 "  said  Xelly,  as  they  scattered  to 
their  places  at  the  stroke  of  nine,  feeling  unusually 
anxious  to  appear  well  before  the  new  teacher. 

While  they  pull  down  their  jerseys  and  take  up  their 
books,  we  will  briefly  state  that  Madame  Stein's  select 
boarding-school  had  for  many  years  received  six  girls  at 
a  time,  and  finished  them  off  in  the  old  style.  Plenty 
of  French,  German,  music,  painting,  dancing,  and  de- 
portment turned  out  well-bred,  accomplished,  and  ami- 
able young  ladies,  ready  for  fashionable  society,  easy 
lives,  and  entire  dependence  on  other  people.  Dainty 
and  delicate  creatures  usually,  for,  as  in  most  schools  of 
this  sort,  minds  and  manners  were  much  cultivated,  but 
bodies  rather  neglected.  Heads  and  backs  ached,  dys- 
pepsia was  a  common  ailment,  and  poorlies  of  all  sorts 
afflicted  the  dear  girls,  who  ought  not  to  have  known 
what  "nerves"  meant,  and  should  have  had  no  bottles 
in  their  closets  holding  wine  and  iron,  cough  mixtures, 


JERSEYS;     OR,    THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  141 

soothing  drops  and  cod-liver  oil  for  weak  lungs.  Gym- 
nastics had  once  flourished,  but  the  fashion  had  gone 
by,  and  a  short  walk  each  day  was  aU  the  exercise  they 
took,  though  they  might  have  had  glorious  romps  in 
the  old  coach-house  and  bowling-alley  in  bad  weather, 
and  lovely  rambles  about  the  spacious  grounds  ;  for  the 
house  was  in  the  suburbs,  and  had  once  been  a  fine 
country  mansion.  Some  of  the  liveliest  girls  did  race 
down  the  avenue  now  and  then,  when  Madame  was 
away,  and  one  irrepressible  creature  had  actually  slid 
down  the  wide  balusters,  to  the  horror  of  the  entire 
household. 

In  cold  weather  all  grew  lazy  and  cuddled  under 
blankets  and  around  registers,  like  so  many  warmth- 
loving  pussies, — poor  Madame's  rheumatism  making 
her  enjoy  a  hot-house  temperature  and  indulge  the  girls 
in  luxurious  habits.  Now  she  had  been  obliged  to  give 
up  entirely  and  take  to  her  bed,  saying,  with  the  res- 
ignation of  an  indolent  nature  :  — 

"  If  Anna  Orne  takes  charge  of  the  school  I  shall 
feel  no  anxiety.     She  is  equal  to  anything." 

She  certainly  looked  so  as  she  came  into  the  school- 
room ready  for  her  day's  work,  with  lungs  full  of 
fresh  air,  brain  stimulated  by  sound  sleep,  wholesome 
exercise,  and  a  simple  breakfast,  and  a  mind  much  in- 
terested in  the  task  before  her.  The  girl 's  eyes  followed 
her  as  she  took  her  place,  involuntarily  attracted  by 
the  unusual  spectacle  of  a  robust  woman.  Everything 
about  her  seemed  so  fresh,  harmonious,  and  happy,  that 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  see  the  brilliant  color  in  her  cheeks, 
the  thick  coils  of  glossy  hair  on  her  spirited  head,  the 


142  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

flash  of  white  teeth  as  she  spoke,  and  the  clear,  bright 
glance  of  eyes  both  keen  and  kind.  Bat  the  most 
admiring  glances  were  on  the  dark-blue  jersey  that 
showed  such  fine  curves  of  the  broad  shoulders,  round 
waist,  and  plump  arms,  without  a  wrinkle  to  mar  its 
smooth  perfection. 

Girls  are  quick  to  see  what  is  genuine,  to  respect 
what  is  strong,  and  to  love  what  is  beautiful ;  so  before 
that  day  was  over,  Miss  Orne  had  charmed  them  all ;  for 
they  felt  that  she  was  not  only  able  to  teach  but  to 
help  and  amuse  them. 

After  tea- the  other  teachers  went  to  their  rooms,  glad 
to  be  free  from  the  chatter  of  half  a  dozen  lively  tongues; 
but  Miss  Orne  remained  in  the  drawing-room,  and  set 
the  girls  to  dancing  till  they  were  tired,  then  gathered 
them  round  the  long  table  to  do  what  they  liked  till 
prayer-time.  Some  had  novels,  others  did  fancy-work 
or  lounged,  and  all  wondered  what  the  new  teacher 
would  do  next. 

Six  pairs  of  curious  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her,  as  she 
sat  sewing  on  some  queer  bits  of  crash,  and  six  lively 
fancies  vainly  tried  to  guess  what  the  articles  were, 
for  no  one  was  rude  enough  to  ask.  Presently  she 
tried  on  a  pair  of  mittens,  and  surveyed  them  with 
satisfaction,  saying  as  she  caught  Kitty  staring  with 
uncontrollable  interest :  — 

"  These  are  my  beautifiers,  and  I  never  like  to  be 
without  them." 

"  Are  they  to  keep  your  hands  white  1 "  asked  Maud, 
who  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  in  caring  for  her  own.  "  I 
wear  old  kid  gloves  at  night  after  cold-creaming  mine." 


143 


"  I  wear  these  for  five  minutes  night  and  morning, 
for  a  good  rub,  after  dipping  them  in  cold  water. 
Thanks  to  these  rough  friends,  I  seldom  feel  the  cold, 
get  a  good  color,  and  keep  well,"  answered  Miss  Orne, 
polishing  up  her  smooth  cheek  till  it  looked  like  a 
rosy  apple. 

"  I  'd  like  the  color,  but  not  the  crash.  Must  it  be 
so  rough,  and  with  cold  water  1 "  asked  Maud,  who 
often  privately  rubbed  her  pale  face  with  a  bit  of  red 
flannel,  rouge  being  forbidden  except  for  theatricals. 

1  Best  so ;  but  there  are  other  ways  to  get  a  color. 
Run  up  and  down  the  avenue  three  or  four  times 
a  day,  eat  no  pastry,  and  go  to  bed  early,"  said  Miss 
Orne,  whose  sharp  eye  had  spied  out  the  little  weak- 
nesses of  the  girls,  and  whose  kind  heart  longed  to 
help  them  at  once. 

"  It  makes  my  back  ache  to  run,  and  Madame  says 
we  are  too  old  now." 

"  Never  too  old  to  care  for  one's  health,  my  dear. 
Better  run  now  than  lie  on  a  sofa  by  and  by,  with  a 
back  that  never  stops  aching." 

"  Do  you  cure  your  headaches  in  that  way  1 "  asked 
Nelly,  rubbing  her  forehead  wearily. 

"  I  never  have  them  ; "  and  Miss  Orne's  bright  eyes 
were  full  of  pity  for  all  pain." 

"What  do  you  do  to  help  it?"  cried  Nelly,  who 
firmly  believed  that  it  was  inevitable. 

"  I  give  my  brain  plenty  of  rest,  air,  and  good  food. 
I  never  know  I  have  any  nerves,  except  in  the  enjoy- 
ment they  give  me,  for  I  have  learned  how  to  use  them. 
T  was  not  brought  up  to  believe  that  I  was  born  an 


144  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

invalid,  and  was  taught  to  understand  the  beautiful 
machinery  God  gave  me,  and  to  keep  it  religiously  in 
order." 

Miss  Orne  spoke  so  seriously  that  there  was  a  brief 
pause  in  which  the  girls  were  wishing  that  some  one 
had  taught  them  this  lesson  and  made  them  as  strong 
and  lovely  as  their  new  teacher. 

"  If  crash  mittens  would  make  my  jersey  set  like 
yours  I  'd  have  a  pair  at  once,"  said  Cordy,  sadly 
eyeing  the  buttons  on  her  own,  which  seemed  in  dan- 
ger of  flying  off  if  their  plump  wearer  moved  too 
quickly. 

"Brisk  runs  are  what  you  want,  and  less  confec- 
tionery, sleep,  and  lounging  in  easy  chairs ; "  began 
Miss  Orne,  all  ready  to  prescribe  for  these  poor  girls, 
the  most  important  part  of  whose  education  had  been 
so  neglected. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  know  1 "  said  Cordy,  blushing, 
as  she  bounced  out  of  her  luxurious  seat  and  whisked 
into  her  pocket  the  paper  of  chocolate  creams  she  was 
seldom  without. 

Her  round  eyes  and  artless  surprise  set  the  others 
to  laughing,  and  gave  Sally  courage  to  ask  what  she 
wanted,  then  and  there. 

"  Miss  Orne,  I  wish  you  would  show  us  how  to  be 
strong  and  hearty,  for  I  do  think  girls  are  a  feeble 
set  now-a-days.  We  certainly  need  stirring  up,  and 
I  hope  you  will  kindly  do  it.  Please  begin  with  me, 
then  the  others  will  see  that  I  mean  what  I  say." 

Miss  Orne  looked  up  at  the  tall,  overgrown  girl 
who    stood    before   her,    with    broad    forehead,    near- 


JERSEYS;    OR,    THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  145 

sighted  eyes,  and  narrow  chest  of  a  student ;  not  at 
all  what  a  girl  of  seventeen  should  be,  physically, 
though  a  clear  mind  and  a  brave  spirit  shone  in  her 
clever  face  and  sounded  in  her  resolute  voice. 

"  I  shall  very  gladly  do  what  I  can  for  you,  my 
dear.  It  is  very  simple,  and  I  am  sure  that  a  few 
months  of  my  sort  of  training  will  help  you  much; 
for  you  are  just  the  kind  of  girl  who  should  have  a 
strong  body,  to  keep  pace  with  a  very  active  brain," 
answered  Miss  Orne,  taking  Sally's  thin,  inky  fingers 
in  her  own,  with  a  friendly  pressure  that  showed  her 
good  will. 

"  Madame  says  violent  exercise  is  not  good  for 
girls,  so  we  gave  up  gymnastics  long  ago,"  said  Maud, 
in  her  languid  voice,  wishing  that  Sally  would  not 
suggest  disagreeable  things. 

"  One  does  not  need  clubs,  dumb  bells,  and  bars  for 
my  style  of  exercise.  Let  me  show  you ;  "  and  rising, 
Miss  Orne  went  through  a  series  of  energetic  but 
graceful  evolutions,  which  put  every  muscle  in  play 
without  great  exertion. 

"  That  looks  easy  enough,"  began  Nelly. 

"  Try  it,"  answered  Miss  Orne,  with  a  sparkle  of  fun 
in  her  blue  eyes. 

They  did  try,  —  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the 
solemn  portraits  on  the  wall,  unused  to  seeing  such 
antics  in  that  dignified  apartment.  But  some  of  the 
girls  were  out  of  breath  in  five  minutes ;  others  could 
not  lift  their  arms  over  their  heads ;  Maud  and  Xelly 
broke  several  bones  in  their  corsets,  trying  to  stoop ; 
and  Kitty  tumbled  down,  in  her  efforts  to  touch  her 
10 


146  SPINNING- WHEEL   STORIES. 

toes  without  bending  her  knees.  Sally  got  on  the 
best  of  all,  being  long  of  limb,  easy  in  her  clothes,  and 
full  of  enthusiasm. 

"  Pretty  well  for  beginners,"  said  Miss  Orne,  as  they 
paused  at  last,  flushed  and  merry.  "Do  that  regularly 
every  day,  and  you  will  soon  gain  a  few  inches  across 
the  chest  and  fill  out  the  new  jerseys  with  firm,  elastic 
figures." 

"  Like  yours,"  added  Sally,  with  a  face  full  of  such 
honest  admiration  that  it  could  not  offend. 

Seeing  that  she  had  made  one  convert,  and  knowing 
that  girls,  like  sheep,  are  sure  to  follow  a  leader,  Miss 
Orne  said  no  more  then,  but  waited  for  the  leaven  to 
work.  The  others  called  it  one  of  Sally's  notions, 
but  were  interested  to  see  how  she  would  get  on,  and 
had  great  fun,  when  they  went  to  bed,  watching  her 
faithful  efforts  to  imitate  her  teacher's  rapid  and  effec- 
tive motions. 

"  The  wind-mill  is  going ! "  cried  Kitty,  as  several 
of  them  sat  on  the  bed,  laughing  at  the  long  arms 
swinging  about. 

"  That  is  the  hygienic  elbow-exercise,  and  that  the 
Orne  Quickstep,  a  mixture  of  the  grasshopper's  skip 
and  the  water-bug's  slide,"  added  Julia,  humming  a 
tune  in  time  to  the  stamp  of  the  other's  foot. 

"  We  will  call  these  the  Jersey  Jymnastics,  and  spell 
the  last  with  a  J,  my  dear,"  said  Xelly ;  and  the  name 
was  received  with  as  much  applause  as  the  young 
ladies  dared  to  give  it  at  that  hour. 

"  Laugh  on,  but  see  if  you  don't  all  follow  my 
example  sooner  or  later,  when  I  become  a  model  of 


JERSEYS  ;    OR,    TEE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  147 

grace,  strength,  and  beauty,"  retorted  Sally,  as  she 
turned  them  out  and  went  to  bed,  tingling  all  over 
with  a  delicious  glow  that  sent  the  blood  from  her  hot 
head  to  warm  her  cold  feet,  and  bring  her  the  sound, 
refreshing  sleep  she  so  much  needed. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  order  of  things, 
for  Miss  Orne  carried  her  energy  into  other  matters 
besides  gymnastics,  and  no  one  dared  oppose  her  when 
Madame  shut  her  ears  to  all  complaints,  saying,  "Obey 
her  in  everything,  and  don't  trouble  me." 

Pitchers  of  fresh  milk  took  the  place  of  tea  and 
coffee ;  cake  and  pie  were  rarely  seen,  but  better 
bread,  plain  puddings,  and  plenty  of  fruit. 

Rooms  were  cooled  off,  feather  beds  sent  up  garret, 
and  thick  curtains  abolished.  Sun  and  air  streamed 
in,  and  great  cans  of  water  appeared  suggestively  at 
doors  in  the  morning.  Earlier  hours  were  kept,  and 
brisk  walks  taken  by  nearly  all  the  girls;  for  Miss 
Orne  baited  her  hook  cleverly,  and  always  had  some 
pleasant  project  to  make  the  wintry  expeditions  in- 
viting. There  were  games  in  the  parlor  instead  of 
novels,  and  fancy-work  in  the  evening ;  shorter  lessons, 
and  longer  talks  on  the  many  useful  subjects  that 
are  best  learned  from  the  lips  of  a  true  teacher.  A 
cooking  class  was  started,  not  to  make  fancy  dishes, 
but  the  plain,  substantial  ones  all  housewives  should 
understand.  Several  girls  swept  their  own  rooms,  aud 
liked  it  after  they  saw  Miss  Orne  do  hers  in  a  becom- 
ing dust-cap ;  and  these  same  pioneers,  headed  by  Sally, 
boldly  coasted  on  the  hill,  swung  clubs  in  the  coach- 
house, and  played  tag  in  the  bowling-alley  rainy  days. 


148  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

It  took  time  to  work  these  much-needed  changes, 
but  young  people  like  novelty ;  the  old  routine  had 
grown  tiresome,  and  Miss  Orne  made  things  so  lively 
and  pleasant  it  was  impossible  to  resist  her  wishes. 
Sally  did  begin  to  straighten  up,  after  a  month  or 
two  of  regular  training;  Maud  outgrew  both  corsets 
and  backache ;  Nelly  got  a  fresh  color ;  Kitty  found 
her  thin  arms  developing  visible  muscles;  and  Julia 
considered  herself  a  Von  Hillern,  after  walking  ten 
miles  without  fatigue. 

But  dear,  fat  Cordy  was  the  most  successful  of 
all ;  and  rejoiced  greatly  over  the  loss  of  a  few 
pounds  when  she  gave  up  over-eating,  long  naps,  and 
lazy  habits.  Exercise  became  a  sort  of  mania  *with 
her,  and  she  was  continually  trudging  off  for  a  con- 
stitutional, or  trotting  up  and  down  the  halls  when 
bad  weather  prevented  the  daily  tramp.  It  was  the 
desire  of  her  soul  to  grow  thin,  and  such  was  her 
ardor  that  Miss  Orne  had  to  check  her  sometimes,  lest 
she  should  overdo  the  matter. 

"All  this  is  easy  and  pleasant  now,  because  it  is 
new,"  she  said,  "and  there  is  no  one  to  criticise  our 
simple,  sensible  ways;  but  when  you  go  away  I  am 
afraid  you  will  undo  the  good  I  have  tried  to 
do  you.  People  will  ridicule  you,  fashion  will  con- 
demn, and  frivolous  pleasures  make  our  wholesome 
Dnes  seem  hard.  Can  you  be  steadfast,  and  keep 
on?" 

"We  will!"  cried  all  the  girls;  but  the  older  ones 
looked  a  little  anxious,  as  they  thought  of  going  home 
to  introduce  the  new  ways  alone. 


JERSEYS;    OR,    THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  149 

Miss  Orne  shook  her  head,  earnestly  wishing  that  she 
could  impress  the  important  lesson  indelibly  upon  them ; 
and  very  soon  something  happened  which  had  that  effect. 
April  came,  and  the  snowdrops  and  crocuses  were 
up  in  the  garden  beds.  Madame  was  able  to  sit  at 
her  window,  peering  out  like  a  dormouse  waking  from 
its  winter  sleep ;  and  much  did  the  good  lady 
wonder  at  the  blooming  faces  turned  up  to  nod  and 
smile  at  her,  the  lively  steps  that  tripped  about  the 
house,  and  the  amazing  spectacle  of  her  young  ladies 
racing  round  the  lawn  as  if  they  liked  it.  No  one 
knew  how  Miss  Orne  reconciled  her  to  this  new  style 
of  deportment ;  but  she  made  no  complaint,  —  only 
shook  her  impressive  cap  when  the  girls  came  beam- 
ing in  to  pay  little  visits,  full  of  happy  chat  about  their 
affairs.  They  seemed  to  take  a  real  interest  in  their 
studies  now,  to  be  very  happy ;  and  all  looked  so 
well  that  the  wise  old  lady  said  to  herself :  — 

"  Looks  are  everything  with  women,  and  I  have 
never  been  able  to  show  such  a  bouquet  of  blooming 
creatures  at  my  breaking  up  as  I  shall  this  year.  I 
will  let  well  enough  alone,  and  if  fault  is  found,  dear 
Anna's  shoulders  are  broad  enough  to  bear  it." 

Things  were  in  this  promising  state,  and  all  were 
busily  preparing  for  the  May  fete,  at  which  time  this 
class  of  girls  would  graduate,  when  the  mysterious 
events  occurred  to  which  wre  have  alluded. 

They  were  gathered  —  the  girls,  not  the  events  — 
round  the  table  one  night,  discussing,  with  the  deep 
interest  befitting  such  an  important  topic,  what  they 
should  wear  on  examination  day. 


150  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  /  think  white  silk  jerseys  and  pink  or  blue  skirts 
would  be  lovely  •  so  pretty  and  so  appropriate  for  the 
J.  J.  Club,  and  so  nice  for  us  to  do  our  exercises  in. 
Miss  Orne  wants  us  to  show  how  well  we  go  together, 
and  of  course  we  want  to  please  her ; "  said  Nelly 
taking  the  lead  as  usual  in  matters  of  taste. 

"  Of  course  ! "  cried  all  the  girls,  with  an  alacrity 
which  plainly  showed  how  entirely  the  new  friend  had 
won  their  hearts. 

"  I  would  n't  have  believed  that  six  months  could 
make  such  a  difference  in  one's  figure  and  feelings," 
said  Maud,  surveying  her  waist  with  calm  satisfaction, 
though  it  was  no  longer  slender,  but  in  perfect  pro- 
portion to  the  rest  of  her  youthful  shape. 

"I've  had  to  let  out  every  dress,  and  it's  a  mercy 
I  'm  going  home,  for  I  should  n't  be  decent  if  I  kept  on 
at  this  rate ; "  and  Julia  took  a  long  breath,  proud  of 
her  broad  chest,  expanded  by  plenty  of  exercise,  and 
loose  clothing. 

"  I  take  mine  in,  and  don't  have  to  worry  about  my 
buttons  flying  off,  a  la  Clara  Peggotty.  I  'm  so  pleased 
I  want  to  be  training  all  the  time,  for  I  'm  not  half 
thin  enough  yet,"  said  Cordy,  jumping  up  for  a 
trot  round  the  room,  that  not  a  moment  might  be 
lost. 

"  Come,  Sally,  you  ought  to  join  in  the  jubilee,  for 
you  have  done  wonders,  and  will  be  as  straight  as  a 
ramrod  in  a  little  while.  Why  so  sober  to-night  1  Is 
it  because  our  dear  Miss  Orne  leaves  us  to  sit  with 
Madame  V  asked  Nelly,  missing  the  gayest  voice  of 
the  six,  and  observing  her  friend's  troubled  face. 


JERSEYS;    OR,    THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  151 

u  I  'm  making  up  my  mind  whether  I  'd  better  tell 
you  something  or  not.  Don't  want  to  scare  the 
servants,  trouble  Madame,  or  vex  Miss  Orne;  for  I 
know  she  would  n't  believe  a  word  of  it,  though  I  saw 
it  with  my  own  eyes,"  answered  Sally,  in  such  a  mys- 
terious tone  that  the  girls  with  one  voice  cried,  — 

"  Tell  us,  this  minute  !  " 

"  I  will ;  and  perhaps  some  of  you  can  explain  the 
matter." 

As  she  spoke,  Sally  rose  and  stood  on  the  rug  with 
her  hands  behind  her,  looking  rather  wild  and  queer ; 
for  her  short  hair  was  in  a  toss,  her  eyes  shone  large 
behind  her  round  glasses,  and  her  voice  sank  to  a 
whisper  as  she  made  this  startling  announcement :  — 

"  I  've  seen  a  ghost !  " 

A  general  shiver  pervaded  the  listeners,  and  Cordy 
poked  her  head  under  the  sofa  pillows  with  a  faint  cry, 
while  the  rest  involuntarily  drew  nearer  to  one 
another. 

"  Where  ] "  demanded  Julia,  the  bravest  of  the 
party. 

"  On  the  top  of  the  house." 

"Good  gracious!  When,  Sally]"  "What  did  it 
look  like1?"  "Don't  scare  us  for  fun,"  —  cried  the 
girls,  undecided  whether  to  take  this  startling  story 
in  jest  or  earnest. 

'•'Listen,  and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,"  answered 
Sally,  holding  up  her  finger  impressively. 

"  Night  before  last  I  sat  till  eleven,  studying. 
Against  the  rules,  I  know  ;  but  I  forgot,  and  when  I 
was  through  I  opened  my  window  to  air  the  room.     It 


152  SPINXING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

was  bright  moonlight,  so  I  took  a  stroll  along  the  top 
of  the  piazza,  and  coming  back  with  my  eyes  on  the 
sky  I  naturally  saw  the  roof  of  the  main  house  from 
my  wing.  I  could  n't  have  been  asleep,  could  1 1 
yet,  I  solemnly  declare  I  saw  a  white  figure  with  a 
veil  over  its  head  roaming  to  and  fro  as  quietly  as  a 
shadow.  I  looked  and  looked,  then  I  called  softly, 
but  it  never  answered,  and  suddenly  it  was  gone." 

"What  did  you  do?  quavered  Cordy,  in  a  smoth- 
ered voice  from  under  the  pillow. 

"  Went  straight  in,  took  my  lamp  and  marched  up 
to  the  cupola.  Not  a  sign  of  any  one,  all  locked  and 
the  floor  dusty,  for  we  never  go  there  now,  you  know.  I 
did  n't  like  it,  but  just  said,  '  Sally,  go  to  bed  ;  it's  an 
optical  illusion  and  serves  you  right  for  studying 
against  the  rule.'     That  was  the  first  time." 

u  Mercy  on  us  !  Did  you  see  it  again  ?"  cried  Maud, 
getting  hold  of  Julia's  strong  arm  for  protection. 

"  Yes,  in  the  bowling-alley  at  midnight,"  whispered 
Sally. 

"Do  shut  the  door,  Kit,  and  don't  keep  clutching 
at  me  in  that  scary  way  ;  it 's  very  unpleasant,"  said 
Nelly,  glancing  nervously  over  her  shoulder  as  the  six 
pairs  of  wide-opened  eyes  were  fixed  on  Sally. 

"  I  got  up  to  shut  my  window  last  night,  and  saw 
a  light -in  the  alley.  A  dim  one,  but  bright  enough 
to  show  me  the  same  white  thing  going  up  and  down, 
with  the  veil  as  before.  I  '11  confess  I  was  nervous 
then,  for  you  know  there  is  a  story  that  in  old  times 
the  man  who  lived  here  would  n't  let  his  daughter 
marry  the  lover  she  wanted,  and  she  pined  away  and 


JERSEYS;    OR,    THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  153 

died,  and  said  she  'd  haunt  the  cruel  father,  and  she 
did.  Old  Mrs  Foster  told  me  all  about  it  when  I  first 
came,  and  Madame  asked  me  not  to  repeat  it,  so  I 
never  did.  I  don't  believe  in  ghosts,  mind  you,  but 
what  on  earth  is  it,  trailing  about  in  that  ridiculous 
way!" 

Sally  spoke  nervously  and  looked  excited,  for  in 
spite  of  courage  and  common  sense  she  was  worried 
to  account  for  the  apparition. 

"  How  long  did  it  stay  % "  asked  Julia,  with  her  arm 
round  Maud,  who  was  trembling  and  pale. 

"A  good  fifteen  minutes  by  my  watch,  then  van- 
ished, light  and  all,  as  suddenly  as  before.  I  did  n't 
go  to  look  after  it  that  time,  but  if  I  see  it  again  I  '11 
hunt  till  I  find  out  what  it  is.  Who  will  go  with 
mel" 

No  one  volunteered,  and  Cordy  emerged  long  enough 
to  say  imploringly  :  — 

"  Do  tell  Miss  Orne,  or  get  the  police ; "  then  dived 
out  of  sight  again,  and  lay  quaking  like  an  ostrich  with 
its  head  in  the  sand. 

"  I  won't !  Miss  Orne  would  think  I  was  a  fool,  and 
the  police  don't  arrest  ghosts.  I  '11  do  it  myself,  and 
Julia  will  help  me,  I  know.  She  is  the  bravest  of  you, 
and  has  n't  developed  her  biceps  for  nothing,"  said 
Sally,  bent  on  keeping  all  the  glory  of  the  capture  to 
themselves  if  possible. 

Flattered  by  the  compliment  to  her  arms,  Julia  did 
not  decline  the  invitation,  but  made  a  very  sensible 
suggestion,  which  was  a  great  relief  to  the  timid,  till 
Sally  added  a  new  fancy  to  haunt  them. 


154  SPINNING- WHEEL    STORIES. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  one  of  the  servants  moon-struck  or 
love-lorn.  Myra  looks  sentimental,  and  is  always 
singing :  — 

"I'm  waiting,  waiting,  darling, 
Morning,  night,  and  noon  ; 
Oh,  meet  me  by  the  river 
When  softly  shines  the  moon." 

"  It  *s  not  Myra ;  I  asked  her,  and  she  turned  pale 
at  the  mere  idea  of  going  anywhere  alone  after  dark, 
and  said  cook  had  seen  a  banshee  gliding  down  the 
Lady's  Walk  one  night,  when  she  got  up  for  camphor, 
having  the  face-ache.  I  said  no  more,  not  wanting 
to  scare  them ;  ignorant  people  are  so  supersti- 
tious." 

Sally  paused,  and  the  girls  all  tried  not  to  look 
"  scared  "  or  "  superstitious,"  but  did  not  succeed  very 
well. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  1 "  asked  Nelly,  in  a 
respectful  tone,  as  Julia  and  Sally  stood  side  by  side, 
like  Horatius  and  Herminius  waiting  for  a  Spurius 
Lartius  to  join  them. 

"  Watch,  like  cats  for  a  mouse,  and  pounce  as  soon 
as  possible.  All  promise  to  say  nothing ;  then  we 
can't  be  laughed  at  if  it  turns  out  some  silly  thing,  as 
it  probably  will,"  answered  Sally. 

"We  promise!"  solemnly  answered  the  girls,  feel- 
ing deeply  impressed  with  the  thrilling  interest  of  the 
moment. 

"  Very  well ;  now  don't  talk  about  it  or  think 
about  it  till  we  report,  or  no  one  will  sleep  a  wink," 
said  Sally,  walking  off  with  her  ally  as  coolly  as  if, 


JERSEYS  ;    OR,    THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  155 

after  frightening  them  out  of  their  wits,  they  could 
forget  the  matter  at  word  of  command. 

The  oath  of  silence  was  well  kept,  but  lessons  suf- 
fered, and  so  did  sleep,  for  the  excitement  was  great, 
especially  in  the  morning,  when  the  watchers  reported 
the  events  of  the  night,  and  in  the  evening,  when  they 
took  turns  to  go  on  guard.  There  was  much  whisking 
of  dressing-gowns  up  and  down  the  corridor  of  the 
west  wing,  where  our  six  roomed,  as  the  girls  flew  to 
ask  questions  early  each  day,  or  scurried  to  bed,  glanc- 
ing behind  them  for  the  banshee  as  they  went. 

Miss  Orne  observed  the  whispers,  nods,  and  eager 
confabulations,  but  said  nothing,  for  Madame  had 
confided  to  her  that  the  young  ladies  were  planning 
a  farewell  gift  for  her.  So  she  was  blind  and  deaf,  and 
smiled  at  the  important  airs  of  her  girlish  admirers. 

Three  or  four  days  passed,  and  no  sign  of  the  ghost 
appeared.  The  boldest  openly  scoffed  at  the  false  alarm, 
and  the  most  timid  began  to  recover  from  their  fright- 
Sally  and  Julia  looked  rather  foolish  as  they  an- 
swered, "no  news,"  morning  after  morning,  to  the 
inquiries  which  were  rapidly  losing  the  breathless 
eagerness  so  flattering  to  the  watchers. 

"You  dreamed  it,  Sally.  Go  to  sleep,  and  don't  do 
it  again,"  said  Nelly,  on  the  fifth  day,  as  she  made  her 
evening  call  and  found  the  girls  yawning  and  cross  for 
want  of  rest. 

"  She  has  exercised  too  much,  and  produced  a  mor- 
bid state  of  the  brain,"  laughed  Maud. 

"  I  just  wish  she  would  n't  scare  me  out  of  my  senses 
for  nothing,"  grumbled  Cordy;  "I  used  to  sleep  like 


156  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

a  dormouse,  and  now  I  dream  dreadfully  and  wake  up 
tired  out.  Come  along,  Kit,  and  let  the  old  ghosts 
carry  off  these  silly  creatures." 

"My  regards  to  the  Woman  in  White  token  you  see 
her  again,  dear,"  added  Kitty,  as  the  four  went  off  to 
laugh  at  the  whole  thing,  though  they  carefully  locked 
their  doors  and  took  a  peep  out  of  window  before 
going  to  sleep. 

"We  may  as  well  give  it  up  and  have  a  good  rest. 
I  'm  worn  out,  and  so  are  you,  if  you  'd  own  it,"  said 
Julia,  throwing  herself  down  for  a  nap  before  mid- 
night. 

"I  shall  not  give  it  up  till  I'm  satisfied.  Sleep 
away,  I  '11  read  awhile  and  call  you  if  anything  comes," 
answered  Sally,  bound  to  prove  the  truth  of  her  story 
if  she  waited  all  summer. 

Julia  was  soon  off,  and  the  lonely  watcher  sat  read- 
ing till  past  eleven;  then  put  out  her  light  and  went 
to  take  a  turn  on  the  flat  roof  of  the  piazza  that  ran 
round  the  house,  for  the  night  was  mild  and  the  stars 
companionable.  As  she  turned  to  come  back,  her 
sharp  eye  caught  sight  of  something  moving  on  the 
house-top  as  before,  and  soon,  clear  against  the  soft 
gloom  of  the  sky,  appeared  the  white  figure  flittin" 
to  and  fro. 

A  long  look,  and  then  Sally  made  a  rush  at  Julia, 
shaking  her  violently  as  she  said  in  an  excited  whisper: 

"  Come  !  she  is  there.  Quick  !  upstairs  to  the  cupola ; 
I  have  the  candle  and  the  key." 

Carried  away  by  the  other's  vehemence  Julia  mutely 
obeyed,  trembling,  but  afraid  to  resist ;  and  noiseless  as 


JERSEYS;    OR,   THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  157 

two  shadows,  they  crept  up  the  stairs,  arriving  just  in 
time  to  see  the  ghost  vanish  over  the  edge  of  the  roof, 
as  if  it  had  dissolved  into  thin  air.  Julia  dropped 
down  in  a  heap,  desperately  frightened,  but  Sally  pulled 
her  up  and  led  her  back  to  their  room,  saying,  when  she 
got  there,  with  grim  satisfaction,  ''Did  I  dream  it  alH 
Now  I  hope  they  will  believe  me." 

"  What  was  it  ?  Oh,  what  could  it  be  1 "  whimpered 
Julia,  quite  demoralized  by  the  spectacle. 

"  I  begin  to  believe  in  ghosts,  for  no  human  being 
could  fly  off  in  that  way,  with  nothing  to  walk  on.  I 
shall  speak  to  Miss  Orne  to-morrow ;  I  've  had  enough 
of  this  sort  of  fun,"  said  Sally,  going  to  the  window, 
with  a  strong  desire  to  shut  and  lock  it. 

But  she  paused  with  her  hand  raised,  as  if  turned  to 
stone,  for  as  she  spoke  the  white  figure  went  slowly  by. 
Julia  dived  into  the  closet,  with  one  spring.  Sally,  how- 
ever, was  on  her  mettle  now,  and,  holding  her  breath, 
leaned  out  to  watch.  With  soundless  steps  the  veiled 
thing  went  along  the  roof,  and  paused  at  the  further  end. 

Never  waiting  for  her  comrade,  Sally  quietly  stepped 
out  and  followed,  leaving  Julia  to  quake  with  fear  and 
listen  for  an  alarm. 

None  came,  and  in  a  few  minutes,  that  seemed  like 
hours,  Sally  returned,  looking  much  excited;  but  was 
sternly  silent,  and,  to  all  the  other's  eager  questions  she 
would  only  give  this  mysterious  reply  :  — ■ 

"  I  know  all,  but  cannot  tell  till  morning.  Go  to 
sleep." 

Believing  her  friend  offended  at  her  base  desertion 
at  the  crisis  of  the  affair,  Julia  curbed  her  curiosity 


158  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

and  soon  forgot  it  in  sleep.  Sally  slept  also,  feeling 
like  a  hero  reposing  after  a  hard-won  battle. 

She  was  up  betimes  and  ready  to  receive  her  early 
visitors  with  an  air  of  triumph,  which  silenced  every 
jeer  and  convinced  the  most  skeptical  that  she  had 
something  sensational  to  tell  at  last. 

When  the  girls  had  perched  themselves  on  any  avail- 
able article  of  furniture,  they  waited  with  respectful 
eagerness,  while  Sally  retired  to  the  hall  for  a  moment, 
and  Julia  rolled  her  eyes,  with  her  finger  on  her  lips, 
looking  as  if  she  could  tell  much  if  she  dared. 

Sally  returned  somewhat  flushed,  but  very  sober,  and 
in  a  few  dramatic  words  related  the  adventures  of  the 
night,  up  to  the  point  where  she  left  Julia  quivering 
ignominiously  in  the  closet,  and,  like  Horatius,  faced 
the  foe  alone. 

"  I  followed  till  the  ghost  entered  a  window." 

"  Which  %  "  demanded  five  awestruck  voices  at  once. 

"The  last." 

"  Ours  1 "  whispered  Kitty,  pale  as  her  collar,  while 
Cordy,  her  room-mate,  sat  aghast. 

"  As  it  turned  to  shut  the  window  the  veil  fell  back 
and  I  saw  the  face."  Sally  spoke  in  a  whisper  and 
added,  with  a  sudden  start,  "  I  see  it  now  !  " 

Every  girl  sprang  or  tumbled  off  her  perch  as  if  an 
electric  shock  had  moved  them,  and  stared  about  them 
as  Nelly  cried  wildly,  "Where]  oh,  where]" 

"  There  ! "  and  Sally  pointed  at  the  palest  face  in 
the  room,  while  her  own  reddened  with  the  mirth  she 
was  vainly  trying  to  suppress. 

"  Cordy  V1 


JERSEYS;    OR,    THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  159 

A  general  shriek  of  amazement  and  incredulity  fol- 
lowed the  question,  while  Sally  laughed  till  the  tears 
ran  down  her  cheeks  at  the  dumb  dismay  of  the  inno- 
cent ghost. 

As  soon  as  she  could  be  heard  she  quickly  ex- 
plained :  "  Yes,  it  was  Cordy,  walking  in  her  sleep. 
She  wore  her  white  flannel  wrapper,  and  a  cloud  round 
her  head,  and  took  her  exercise  over  the  roofs  at  mid- 
night, so  that  no  time  might  be  lost.  I  don't  wonder 
she  is  tired  in  the  morning,  after  such  dangerous 
gymnastics  as  these." 

"  But  she  could  n't  vanish  in  that  strange  way  off 
the  house-top  without  breaking  her  neck,"  said  Julia, 
much  relieved,  but  still  mystified. 

"  She  did  n't  fly  nor  fall,  but  went  dowm  the  ladder 
left  by  the  painters.  Look  at  the  soles  of  her  felt 
slippers,  if  you  doubt  me,  and  see  the  red  paint  from 
the  roof.  We  could  n't  open  the  cupola  windows,  you 
remember,  but  this  morning  I  took  a  stroll  and  looked 
up  and  saw  how  she  did  it  asleep,  though  she  never 
would  dare  to  do  it  awake.  Somnambulists  do  dread- 
fully dangerous  things,  you  know,"  said  Sally,  as  if  her 
experience  of  those  peculiar  people  had  been  vast  and 
varied. 

"  How  could  1 1  It 's  horrid  to  think  of.  Why 
did  you  let  me,  Kit  1 "  cried  Cordy,  uncertain  whether 
to  be  proud  or  ashamed  of  her  exploit. 

"  Never  dreamed  of  your  doing  such  a  silly  thing, 
and  never  waked  up.  Sleep-walkers  are  always  quiet, 
and  if  I  had  seen  you  I  'd  have  been  too  scared  to 
know  you.      I  '11  tie  you  to  the   bed-post  after  this, 


160  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

and  not  let  you  scare  the  whole  house,"  answered  Kitty, 
regarding  it  all  as  a  fine  joke. 

"What  did  I  do  when  I  got  in]"  asked  Cordy,  curi- 
ously. 

"  Took  off  your  things  and  went  to  bed  as  if  glad 
to  get  back.  I  did  n't  dare  to  wake  you,  and  kept  the 
fun  all  to  myself  till  this  morning.  Thought  I  ought 
to  have  a  good  laugh  for  my  pains  since  I  did  all  the 
work,"  answered  Sally,  in  high  glee  at  the  success  of 
her  efforts. 

"  I  did  want  to  get  as  thin  as  I  could  before  T  went 
home,  the  boys  plague  me  so  \  and  I  suppose  it  wore 
upon  me  and  set  me  to  walking  at  night.  I  'm  very 
sorry,  and  I  never  will  again  if  I  can  help  it.  Please 
forgive  me,  and  don't  tell  any  one  but  Miss  Orne ;  it 
was  so  silly,"  begged  poor  Cordy,  tearfully. 

All  promised  and  comforted  her,  and  praised  Sally, 
and  plagued  Julia,  and  had  a  delightfully  noisy  and 
exciting  half  hour  before  the  breakfast  bell  rang. 

Miss  Orne  wondered  what  made  the  young  faces  so 
gay  and  the  laughter  so  frequent,  as  mysterious  hints 
and  significant  nods  went  on  around  the  table  ;  but  as 
soon  as  possible  she  was  borne  into  the  school-room  and 
told  the  thrilling  tale. 

Her  interest  and  surprise  were  very  nattering,  and 
when  the  subject  had  been  well  discussed  she  promised 
to  prevent  any  further  escapades  of  this  sort,  and  ad- 
vised Cordy  to  try  the  Banting  method  for  the  few  re- 
maining weeks  of  her  stay. 

"  I  '11  try  anything  that  will  keep  me  from  acting 
ghost  and  making  every  one  afraid  of  me,"  said  Cordy, 


JERSEYS  ;    OR,   THE   GIRLS'    GHOST.  161 

secretly  wondering  why  she  had  not  broken  her  neck 
in  her  nocturnal  gymnastics. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts,  Miss  Orne  1 "  asked 
Maud,  —  who  did,  in  spite  of  the  comic  explanation 
of  this  one. 

"  Not  the  old-fashioned  sort,  but  there  is  a  modern 
kind  that  we  are  all  afraid  of  more  or  less,"  answered 
Miss  Orne,  with  a  half-playful,  half-serious  look  at  the 
girls  around  her. 

"Do  tell  about  them,  please,"  begged  Kitty,  while 
the  rest  looked  both  surprised  and  interested. 

"  There  is  one  which  I  am  very  anxious  to  keep  you 
from  fearing.  Women  are  especially  haunted  by  it, 
and  it  prevents  them  from  doing,  being,  and  thinking 
all  that  they  might  and  ought.  'What  will  people 
say  1 '  is  the  name  of  this  formidable  ghost ;  and  it  does 
much  harm,  for  few  of  us  have  the  courage  to  live  up 
to  what  we  know  to  be  right  in  all  things.  You  are 
soon  to  go  away  to  begin  your  lives  in  earnest,  and  I 
do  hope  that  whatever  I  have  been  able  to  teach  you 
about  the  care  of  minds  and  bodies  will  not  be  forgot- 
ten or  neglected  because  it  may  not  be  the  fashion 
outside  our  little  world." 

"  /  never  will  forget,  or  be  afraid  of  that  ghost,  Miss 
Orne,"  cried  Sally,  quick  to  understand  and  accept  the 
warning  so  opportunely  given. 

"  I  have  great  faith  in  you,  dear,  because  you  have 
proved  yourself  so  brave  in  facing  phantoms  more  easily 
laid.  But  this  is  a  hard  one  to  meet  and  vanquish  ;  so 
watch  well,  stand  firm,  and  let  these  jerseys  that  you 
are  so  fond  of  cover  not  only  healthy  young  bodies  but 
11 


162 


SPIXNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 


happy  hearts,  both  helping  you  to  be  sweet,  wise,  and 
useful  women  in  the  years  to  come.  Dear  girls,  prom- 
ise me  this,  and  I  shall  feel  that  our  winter  has  not 
been  wasted,  and  that  our  spring  is  full  of  lovely 
promise  for  a  splendid  summer." 

As  she  spoke,  with  her  own  beautiful  face  bright 
with  hope  and  tenderness,  ]\Iiss  Orne  opened  her  arms 
and  gathered  them  all  in,  to  seal  their  promise  with 
grateful  kisses  more  eloquent  than  words. 

Long  after  their  school  days  were  over,  the  six  girls 
kept  the  white  jerseys  they  wore  at  the  breaking-up 
festival,  as  relics  of  the  J.  J.  ;  and  long  after  they  were 
scattered  far  apart,  they  remembered  the  lessons  which 
helped  them  to  be  what  their  good  friend  hoped  — 
healthy,  happy,  and  useful  women. 


"  I  think  we  little  ones  ought  to 
have  a  story  all    to   ourselves    now," 
said   one    of  the   smaller   lads,  as    they 
gathered  round  the  fire  with  unabated  interest. 

"  So  do  I,  and  I  Ve  got  a  little  tale  that  will  just 
suit  you,  I  fancy.  The  older  boys  and  girls  can  go 
and  play  games  if  they  don't  care  to  hear,"  answered 
Aunt  Elinor,  producing  the  well-worn  portfolio. 

"  Thanks,  we  will  try  a  bit,  and  if  it  is  very  namby 
pamby  we  can  run,"  said  Geoff,  catching  sight  of  the 
name  of  the  first  chapter.  Aunt  Elinor  smiled  and 
began  to  read  about 


THE  LITTLE   HOUSE  IN  THE  GARDEN. 
I.    Bears. 

A  brown  bear  was  the  first  tenant ;  in  fact,  it  was 
built  for  him,  and  this  is  the  way  it  happened  :  — 

A  man  and  his  wife  were  driving  through  the  woods 
up  among  the  mountains,  and  hearing  a  queer  sound 
looked  about  them  till  they  spied  two  baby  bears  in 
a  tree. 


164  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  Those  must  be  the  cubs  of  the  old  bear  that  was 
killed  last  week,"  said  Mr.  Hitchcock,  much  interested 
all  at  once. 

"  Poor  little  things  !  how  will  they  get  on  with- 
out their  mother?  They  look  half  scared  to  death, 
and  cry  like  real  babies,"  said  the  kind  woman. 

"They  will  starve  if  we  don't  take  care  of  them. 
I  '11  shake  them  down ;  you  catch  them  in  your  shawl 
and  we  '11  see  what  we  can  do  for  them." 

So  Mr.  Hitchcock  climbed  up  the  tree,  to  the  great 
dismay  of  the  two  orphans,  who  growled  funny  little 
growls  and  crept  as  far  out  on  the  branch  as  they  dared. 

"Shake  easy,  John,  or  they  will  fall  and  be  killed," 
cried  the  wife,  holding  out  her  shawl  for  this  new  kind 
of  fruit  to  fall  into. 

Down  they  came,  one  after  the  other,  and  at  first 
were  too  frightened  to  fight ;  so  Mr.  Hitchcock  got 
them  into  the  wagon  safely  bundled  up,  and  Mrs. 
Hitchcock  soothed  their  alarm  by  gentle  pattings  and 
motherly  words,  till  they  ceased  to  struggle,  and  cud- 
dled down  to  sleep  like  two  confiding  puppies,  for 
they  were  not  much  bigger. 

Mr.  Hitchcock  kept  the  hotel  that  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  king  of  the  mountains,  and  in  summer  the 
house  was  full  of  people ;  so  he  was  glad  of  any  new 
attraction,  and  the  little  bears  were  the  delight  of 
many  children.  At  first,  Tom  and  Jerry  trotted  and 
tumbled  about  like  frolicsome  puppies,  and  led  easy 
lives,  —  petted,  fed  and  admired,  till  they  grew  so  big 
and  bold  that,  like  other  young  creatures,  their  pranks 
made  mischief  as  well  as  fun. 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE   IN   THE   GARDEN.  165 

Tom  would  steal  all  the  good  things  he  could  lay 
his  paws  on  in  kitchen  or  dining-room,  and  cook  de- 
clared she  could  n't  have  the  rascal  loose ;  for  whole 
pans  of  milk  vanished,  sheets  of  ginger-bread  were 
found  in  his  den  under  the  back  steps,  and  nearly 
every  day  he  was  seen  scrambling  off  with  booty  of 
some  sort,  while  the  fat  cook  waddled  after,  scolding 
and  shaking  the  poker  at  him,  to  the  great  amusement 
of  the  boarders  on  the  piazza.  People  bore  with  him 
a  long  time ;  but  when  he  took  a  lively  trot  down  the 
middle  of  the  long  dinner-table  one  day,  after  eating 
all  he  liked,  and  smashing  right  and  left  as  he  scam- 
pered off,  with  a  terrible  clatter  of  silver,  glass,  and 
china,  his  angry  master  declared  he  would  n't  have 
such  doings,  and  chained  him  to  a  post  on  the  lawn. 
Here  he  tugged  and  growled  dismally,  while  good  little 
Jerry  frisked  gayly  about,  trying  to  understand  what 
it  all  meant. 

But  presently  his  besetting  sin  got  him  into  trouble 
likewise.  He  loved  to  climb,  and  was  never  happier 
than  when  scrambling  up  the  rough  posts  of  the  back 
piazza  to  bask  in  the  sun  on  the  roof  above,  peeping 
down  with  his  sharp  little  eyes  at  the  children,  who 
could  not  follow.  He  roosted  in  trees  like  a  fat  brown 
bird,  and  came  tumbling  down  unexpectedly  on  lovers 
who  sought  quiet  nooks  to  be  romantic  in.  He  ex- 
plored the  chimneys  and  threw  into  them  any  trifle 
he  happened  to  find,  —  being  a  rogue,  and  fond  of 
stealing  hats,  balls,  dolls,  or  any  small  article  that 
came  in  his  way.  But  the  fun  he  liked  best  was  to 
climb  in  at  the  chamber  windows  and  doze   on  the 


166  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

soft  beds ;  for  Jerry  was  a  luxurious  fellow  and  scorned 
the  straw  of  his  own  den.  This  habit  annoyed  people 
much,  and  the  poor  bear  often  came  bundling  out  of 
windows,  with  old  gentlemen  whacking  him  with  canes, 
or  ladies  throwing  water  after  him. 

One  evening,  when  there  was  a  dance  and  every  one 
was  busy  down  stairs,  Jerry  took  a  walk  on  the  roof, 
and  being  sleepy,  looked  about  for  a  cosey  bed  to  take 
a  nap  in.  Two  brothers  occupied  one  of  these  rooms, 
and  both  were  Jerry's  good  friends,  especially  the 
younger.  Georgie  was  fast  asleep,  as  his  dancing  days 
had  not  yet  begun,  and  Charlie  was  waltzing  away 
down  stairs  j  so  Jerry  crept  into  bed  and  nestled  down 
beside  his  playmate,  who  was  too  sleepy  to  do  anything 
but  roll  over,  thinking  the  big  brother  had  come  to 
bed. 

By  and  by  Charlie  did  come  up,  late  and  tired,  and 
having  forgotten  a  lamp,  undressed  in  the  moonlight, 
observing  nothing  till  about  to  step  into  bed  ;  then, 
finding  something  rolled  up  in  the  clothes,  thought  it 
a  joke  of  the  other  boys,  caught  up  a  racket  and  began 
to  bang  away  at  the  suspicious  bundle.  A  scene  of 
wild  confusion  followed,  for  Jerry  growled  and  clawed 
and  couldn't  get  out;  Georgie  woke,  and  thinking 
his  bed-fellow  was  his  brother  being  abused  by  some 
frolicsome  mate,  held  on  to  Jerry,  defending  him 
bravely,  till  a  rent  in  the  sheet  allowed  a  shaggy  head 
to  appear,  so  close  to  his  own  that  the  poor  child  was 
painfully  reminded  of  Red  Riding  Hood's  false  grand- 
mother. Charlie  was  speechless  with  laughter  at  this 
discovery,  and   while   Jerry  bounced   about   the  bed 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE  IN  THE   GARDEN.  167 

snarling  and  hugging  pillows  as  he  tried  to  get  free, 
terrified  Georgie  rushed  down  the  hall  screaming, 
"  The  wolf !  the  wolf ! "  till  he  took  refuge  in  his 
mother's  room. 

Out  popped  night-capped  heads,  anxious  voices  cried, 
"Is  it  fire1?"  and  in  a  moment  the  house  was  astir. 
The  panic  might  have  been  serious  if  Jerry  had  not 
come  galloping  down  stairs,  hotly  pursued  by  Charlie 
in  his  night-gown,  still  belaboring  the  poor  beast,  and 
howling,  "  He  was  in  my  bed !  He  scared  George  ! 
I  '11  thrash  him  !  " 

Then  the  alarmed  ladies  and  gentlemen  laughed 
and  grew  calm,  while  the  boys  all  turned  out  and 
hunted  Jerry  up  stairs  and  down,  till  he  was  captured 
and  ignominiously  lugged  away  to  be  tied  in  the 
barn. 

That  prank  sealed  his  fate,  and  he  went  to  join  his 
brother  in  captivity.  Here  they  lived  for  a  year,  and 
went  to  housekeeping  in  a  den  in  the  bank,  with  a 
trough  for  their  food,  and  a  high,  knotted  pole  to 
climb  on.  They  had  many  visitors,  and  learned  a  few 
tricks,  but  were  not  happy  bears ;  for  they  longed  to 
be  free,  and  the  older  they  grew,  the  more  they  sighed 
for  the  great  forest  where  they  were  born. 

The  second  summer  something  happened  that  parted 
them  forever.  Among  the  children  that  year  were 
Fred  and  Fan  Howard,  two  jolly  young  persons  of 
twelve  and  fourteen.  Of  course  the  bears  were  very 
interesting,  and  Fred  tried  their  tempers  by  torment- 
ing them,  while  Fan  won  their  hearts  with  cake  and 
nuts,  candy  and  caresses.     Tom  was  Fred's  favorite, 


168  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

and  Jerry  was  Fan's.  Tom  was  very  intelligent,  and 
covered  himself  with  glory  by  various  exploits.  One 
was  taking  off  the  boards  which  roofed  the  den,  so 
that  the  sun  should  dry  the  dampness  after  a  rain ; 
and  he  carefully  replaced  them  at  night.  Any  dog 
who  approached  the  trough  got  his  ears  smartly 
boxed,  and  meddlesome  boys  were  hugged  till  they 
howled  for  mercy.  He  danced  in  a  way  to  convulse 
the  soberest,  and  Fred  taught  him  to  shoulder  arms 
in  such  a  funny  imitation  of  a  stout  old  soldier  of 
the  town  that  the  children  rolled  on  the  grass  in  fits 
of  laughter  when  the  cap  was  on,  and  the  wooden 
gun  flourished  at  word  of  command  by  the  clumsy 
hero. 

Jerry  had  no  accomplishments,  but  his  sweet  tem- 
per made  many  friends.  He  let  the  doves  eat  with 
him,  the  kittens  frolic  all  over  his  broad  back,  and 
was  never  rough  with  the  small  people  who  timidly 
offered  the  buns  he  took  so  gently  from  their  little 
hands.  But  he  pined  in  captivity,  refused  his  food, 
and  lay  in  his  den  all  day,  or  climbed  to  the  top  of 
the  pole  and  sat  there  looking  off  to  the  cool,  dark 
forest,  with  such  a  pensive  air  that  Fan  said  it  made 
her  heart  ache  to  see  him.  Just  before  the  season 
ended,  Jerry  disappeared.  No  one  could  imagine  how 
the  chain  broke,  but  gone  he  was,  and  never  came 
back,  to  Fan's  satisfaction  and  Tom's  great  sorrow. 
He  mourned  for  his  brother,  and  Mr.  Hitchcock 
began  to  talk  of  killing  him  ;  for  it  would  not  do  to  let 
two  bears  loose  in  the  neighborhood,  as  they  some- 
times killed  sheep  and  did  much  harm. 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE   IN   THE    GARDEN.  169 

"I  wish  my  father  would,  buy  him,"  said  Fred, 
"  I  Ve  always  wanted  a  menagerie,  and  a  tame  bear 
would  be  a  capital  beginning." 

"  I  '11  ask  him,  for  I  hate  to  have  the  poor  old 
fellow  killed,"  answered  Fan.  She  not  only  begged 
papa  to  buy  Tom,  but  confessed  that  she  filed  Jerry's 
chain  and  helped  him  to  escape. 

tl  I  know  it  was  wrong,  but  I  could  n't  see  him 
suffer,"  she  said.  "  Now  if  you  buy  Tom  I  '11  give 
you  my  five  dollars  to  help,  and  Mr.  Hitchcock  will 
forgive  me  and  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  both  the  bears." 

After  some  consultation  Tom  ivas  bought,  and 
orders  were  sent  to  have  a  house  built  for  him  in  a 
sunny  corner  of  the  garden,  with  strong  rings  to  chain 
him  to,  and  a  good  lock  on  the  door  to  keep  him  in. 
When  he  was  settled  in  these  new  quarters  he  held 
daily  receptions  for  some  weeks.  Young  and  old 
came  to  see  him,  and  Fred  showed  off  his  menagerie 
with  the  pride  of  a  budding  Barnum.  A  bare  spot 
was  soon  worn  on  the  grass  where  Tom's  parade 
ground  was,  and  at  all  hours  the  poor  fellow  might  be 
seen  dancing  and  drilling,  or  sitting  at  his  door, 
thoughtfully  surveying  the  curious  crowd,  and  pri- 
vately wishing  he  never  had  been  born. 

Here  he  lived  for  another  year,  getting  so  big  that 
he  could  hardly  turn  round  in  his  house,  and  so  cross 
that  Fred  began  to  be  a  little  afraid  of  him  after 
several  hugs  much  too  close  to  be  safe  or  agreeable. 
One  morning  the  door  of  the  house  was  found  broken 
off,  and  Tom  gone.  Fred  was  rather  relieved  ;  but 
his  father  was  anxious,  and  ordered  out  the  boys  of  the 


170  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

neighborhood  to  find  the  runaway,  lest  he  should 
alarm  people  or  do  some  harm.  It  was  an  easy  mat- 
ter to  trace  him,  for  more  than  one  terrified  woman 
had  seen  the  big,  brown  beast  sniffing  round  her  back 
premises  after  food ;  a  whole  schoolfal  of  children  had 
been  startled  out  of  their  wits  by  a  bear's  head  at  the 
window  ;  and  one  old  farmer  was  in  a  towering  rage 
over  the  damage  done  to  his  bee-hives  and  garden  patch 
by  "  the  pesky  critter,  afore  he  took  to  the  woods." 

After  a  long  tramp  poor  Tom  was  found  rolled  up 
in  a  sunny  nook,  resting  after  a  glorious  frolic.  He 
went  home  without  much  reluctance,  but  from  that 
time  it  was  hard  to  keep  him.  Bolts  and  bars,  chains 
and  ropes  were  of  little  use ;  for  when  the  longing 
came,  off  he  went,  on  one  occasion  carrying  the  house 
on  his  back,  like  a  snail,  till  he  tipped  it  over  and 
broke  loose.  Fred  was  quite  worn  out  with  his  pranks, 
and  tried  to  sell  or  give  him  away  ;  but  nobody  would 
buy  or  accept  such  a  troublesome  pet.  Even  tender 
hearted  Fan  gave  him  up,  when  he  frightened  a  little 
child  into  a  fit  and  killed  some  sheep,  in  his  last 
holiday. 

It  was  decided  that  he  must  be  killed,  and  a  party 
of  men,  armed  with  guns,  set  out  to  carry  the  sentence 
into  effect.  Fred  went  also  to  see  that  all  was  prop- 
erly done,  and  Fanny  called  after  him  with  tears  in 
her  eyes :  — 

"  Say  good  by  for  me,  and  kill  him  as  kindly  as 
you  can." 

This  time  Tom  had  been  gone  a  week  and  had 
evidently  made  up  his  mind  to  be  a  free  bear ;   for  he 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE   IN   THE   GARDEN.  171 

had  wandered  far  into  the  deepest  wood  and  made  a 
den  for  himself  among  the  rocks.  Here  they  found 
him,  but  could  not  persuade  him  to  come  out,  and  no 
bold  Putnam  was  in  the  troop,  to  creep  in  and  con- 
quer him  there. 

"  Bullets  will  reach  him  if  we  can't,  so  blaze  away, 
boys,  and  finish  him  off.  We  have  fooled  away  time 
enough,  and  I  want  to  get  home  to  supper,"  said  the 
leader  of  the  hunt,  after  many  attempts  had  been 
made  to  lure  or  drive  Tom  from  his  shelter. 

So  they  "  blazed  away,"  and  growls  of  pain  proved 
that  some  of  the  bullets  had  hit.  But  Tom  would 
not  budge,  and  having  used  up  their  ammunition,  the 
disappointed  hunters  went  home  resolving  to  bring 
dogs  next  day  and  finish  the  job.  They  were  spared 
the  trouble,  however,  for  when  Fred  looked  from  his 
window  in  the  morning  he  saw  that  Tom  had  returned, 
and  ran  down  to  welcome  the  rebel  back.  But  one 
look  at  the  poor  beast  showed  him  that  he  had  only 
come  home  to  die  ;  for  he  was  covered  with  wounds 
and  lay  moaning  on  his  bed  of  straw,  looking  as  pa- 
thetic as  a  bear  could,  his  shaggy  coat  full  of  burrs,  his 
head  and  breast  full  of  shot,  and  one  paw  apparently 
broken. 

Fanny  cried  over  him,  and  Fred  was  quite  bowed 
down  with  remorse ;  but  nothing  could  be  done,  and 
soon,  with  a  vain  effort  to  lick  the  hands  that 
stroked  him,  poor  Tom  lifted  his  great  paw  for  a 
farewell  shake,  and  died,  with  his  great  head  on 
his  master's  knee,  in  token  of  forgiveness.  As  if  to 
atone   for   their   seeming   cruelty,    Fanny    hung    the 


172  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

little  house  with  black  while  Tom  lay  in  state,  and 
Fred,  resisting  all  temptations  to  keep  his  fine  skin, 
buried  him  like  a  warrior  "  with  his  martial  cloak 
around  him,"  in  the  green  woods  he  loved  so  well. 

IT.     Boys. 

The  next  tenants  of  the  little  house  were  three  riot- 
ous lads,  —  for  Fred's  family  moved  away,  —  and  the 
new  comers  took  possession  one  fine  spring  day  with 
great  rejoicing  over  this  ready-made  plaything.  They 
were  queer  fellows,  of  eleven,  twelve,  and  fourteen  ;  for, 
having  read  the  "  Boys'  Froissart "  and  other  warlike 
works,  they  were  quite  carried  away  by  these  stirring 
tales,  and  each  boy  was  a  hero.  Harry,  the  eldest,  was 
Henry  of  Navarre,  and  wore  a  white  plume  on  every 
occasion.  Ned  was  the  Black  Prince,  and  clanked  in 
tin  armor,  while  little  Billy  was  William  Tell  and 
William  Wallace  by  turns. 

Tom's  deserted  mansion  underwent  astonishing 
changes  about  this  time.  Bows  and  arrows  hung  on 
its  walls ;  battle-axes,  lances,  and  guns  stood  in  the 
corners  ;  helmets,  shields,  and  all  manner  of  strange 
weapons  adorned  the  rafters ;  cannon  peeped  from  its 
port-holes ;  a  drawbridge  swung  over  the  moat  that 
soon  surrounded  it ;  the  flags  of  all  nations  waved  from 
its  roof,  and  the  small  house  was  by  turns  an  armory, 
a  fort,  a  castle,  a  robber's  cave,  a  warrior's  tomb,  a  wig- 
wam, and  the  Bastile. 

The  neighbors  were  both  amused  and  scandalized 
by  the  pranks  of  these  dramatic  young  persons ;  for 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE  IN  THE   GARDEN.  173 

they  enacted  with  much  spirit  and  skill  all  the  histor- 
ical events  which  pleased  their  fancy,  and  speedily  en- 
listed other  boys  to  join  in  the  new  plays.  At  one 
time,  painted  and  be-feathered  Indians  whooped  about 
the  garden,  tomahawking  the  unhappy  settlers  in  the 
most  dreadful  manner.  At  another,  Achilles,  radiant 
in  a  tin  helmet  and  boiler-cover  shield,  dragged  Hector 
at  the  tail  of  his  chariot  (the  wheel-barrow),  drawn  by 
two,  antic  and  antique  steeds,  who  upset  both  victor 
and  vanquished  before  the  fun  was  over.  Tell  shot 
bushels  of  apples  off  the  head  of  the  stuffed  suit  of 
clothes  that  acted  his  son,  Cceur  de  Leon  and  Saladin 
hacked  blocks  and  cut  cushions  a  la  Walter  Scott,  and 
tournaments  of  great  splendor  were  held  on  the  grass, 
in  which  knights  from  all  ages,  climes,  and  races,  tilted 
gallantly,  while  fair  dames  of  tender  years  sat  upon 
the  wood-pile  to  play  Queens  of  Beauty  and  award  the 
prize  of  valor. 

Nor  were  more  modern  heroes  forgotten.  Napoleon 
crossed  the  Alps  (a  muck  heap,  high  fence,  and  prickly 
hedge),  with  intrepid  courage.  Wellington  won  many 
a  Waterloo  in  the  melon  patch,  and  Washington  glori- 
fied every  corner  of  the  garden  by  his  heroic  exploits. 
Grant  smoked  sweet-fern  cigars  at  the  fall  of  Richmond ; 
Sherman  marched  victoriously  to  Georgia  through  the 
corn  and  round  the  tomato  bed,  and  Phil  Sheridan 
electrified  the  neighborhood  by  tearing  down  the  road 
on  a  much-enduring  donkey,  stung  to  unusual  agility 
by  matches  tied  to  his  tail. 

It  grew  to  be  an  almost  daily  question  among  the 
young  people,  "  What  are  the  Morton  boys  at  now  1 " 


174  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

for  these  interesting  youths  were  much  admired  by 
their  mates,  who  eagerly  manned  the  fences  to  behold 
the  revels,  when  scouts  brought  word  of  a  new  play 
going  on.  Mrs.  Morton  believed  in  making  boys  happy 
at  home,  and  so  allowed  them  entire  liberty  in  the 
great  garden,  as  it  was  safer  than  river,  streets,  or  ball- 
ground,  where  a  very  mixed  crowd  was  to  be  found. 
Here  they  were  under  her  own  eye,  and  the  safe,  sweet 
tie  between  them  still  held  fast ;  for  she  was  never  too 
busy  to  bind  up  their  wounds  after  a  fray,  wave  her 
handkerchief  when  cheers  told  of  victory,  rummage 
her  stores  for  costumes,  or  join  in  their  eager  study  of 
favorite  heroes  when  rain  put  an  end  to  their  out-of- 
door  fun. 

So  the  summer  was  a  lively  one,  and  though  the 
vegetables  suffered  some  damage,  a  good  crop  of 
healthy,  happy  hours  was  harvested,  and  all  were 
satisfied.  The  little  house  looked  much  the  worse  for 
the  raids  made  upon  it,  but  still  stood  firm  with  the 
stars  and  stripes  waving  over  it,  and  peace  seemed  to 
reign  one  October  afternoon  as  the  boys  lay  under  the 
trees  eating  apples  and  planning  what  to  play  next. 

"  Bobby  wants  to  be  a  knight  of  the  Round  Table. 
We  might  take  him  in  and  have  fun  with  the  rites, 
and  make  him  keep  a  vigil  and  all  that,"  proposed 
William  Wallace,  anxious  to  admit  his  chosen  friend 
to  the  inner  circle  of  the  brotherhood. 

"  He 's  such  a  little  chap  he  'd  be  scared  and  howl. 
I  don't  vote  for  that,"  said  the  Black  Prince,  rather 
scornfully,  as  he  lay  with  his  kingly  legs  in  the  air, 
and  his  royal  mouth  full  of  apple. 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE  IN   THE   GARDEN.  175 

"  I  do  ! "  declared  Henry  of  Navarre,  always  gene- , 
rous,  and  amiable.  "  Bob  is  a  plucky  little  chap,  and 
will  do  anything  we  put  him  to.  He  's  poor  and  the 
other  fellows  look  down  on  him,  so  that 's  another  rea- 
son why  we  ought  to  take  him  in  and  stand  by  him. 
Let 's  give  him  a  good  trial,  and  if  he  's  brave,  wre  '11 
have  him." 

"  So  we  will !  Let 's  do  it  now  ;  he  's  over  there 
waiting  to  be  asked  in.  He  does  n't  go  poking  his  nose 
where  he  is  n't  wanted,  as  some  folks  do,"  cried  Billy, 
who  had  often  been  snubbed  by  the  big  boys  in  his 
efforts  at  knightly  feats. 

A  whistle  brought  Bobby,  with  a  beaming  face,  for 
he  burned  to  join  the  fun,  but  held  back  because  he 
was  not  a  gentleman's  son.  A  sturdy,  honest  little 
soul  was  Bobby,  true  as  steel,  brave  as  a  lion,  and 
loyal  as  an  old-time  vassal  to  his  young  lord,  kind 
Billy,  who  always  told  him  all  the  plans,  explained  the 
mysteries,  and  shared  the  goodies  when  feasts  were 
spread. 

Now  he  stood  leaning  against  one  of  the  posts  of 
the  little  house  whither  the  boys  had  adjourned,  and 
listened  bashfully  while  Harry  told  him  what  he  must 
do  to  join  the  heroes  of  the  Round  Table.  He  did 
not  understand  half  of  it,  but  was  ready  for  any  trial, 
and  took  the  comical  oath  administered  to  him  wTith 
the  utmost  solemnity. 

"  You  must  stay  here  locked  in  for  some  hours,  and 
watch  your  armor.  That 's  the  vigil  young  knights 
had  to  keep  before  they  could  fight.  You  must  n't 
be  scared  at  any  noises  you  hear,  or  anything  you  see, 


176  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

or  sing  out  for  help,  even  if  you  stay  here  till  dark. 
You'll  be  a  coward  if  you  do,  and  never  have  a 
sword." 

"I  promise  truly;  hope  to  die  if  I  don't !  "  answered 
Bobby,  fixing  his  blue  eyes  on  the  speaker,  and  holding 
his  curly  head  erect  with  the  air  of  one  ready  to  face 
any  peril;  for  the  desire  of  his  soul  was  to  own  a 
sword,  like  Billy,  and  clash  it  on  warlike  occasions. 

Then  a  suit  of  armor  was  piled  up  on  the  red  box, 
which  was  by  turns  altar,  table,  tomb,  and  execution- 
er's block.  Banners  were  hung  over  it,  the  place  dark- 
ened, two  candles  lighted,  and  after  certain  rites  which 
cannot  be  divulged,  the  little  knight  was  left  to  his 
vigil  with  the  door  locked. 

The  boys  howled  outside,  smote  on  the  roof,  fired  a 
cannon,  and  taunted  the  prisoner  with  derisive  epithets 
to  stir  him  to  wrath.  But  no  cry  answered  them,  no 
hint  of  weariness,  fear,  or  anger  betrayed  him,  and 
after  a  half-hour  of  this  sort  of  fun,  they  left  him  to 
the  greater  trial  of  silence,  solitude,  and  uncertainty. 

The  short  afternoon  was  soon  gone,  and  the  tea  bell 
rang  before  the  vigil  had  lasted  long  enough. 

"He  won't  know  what  time  it  is;  let's  leave  him  till 
after  supper,  and  then  march  out  with  torches  and 
bring  him  in  to  a  good  feed.  Mother  won't  mind,  and 
Hetty  likes  to  stuff  fellows,"  proposed  Harry,  and  all 
being  hungry,  the  first  part  of  the  plan  was  carried 
out  at  once. 

But  before  tea  was  over,  the  unusual  clang  of  the 
fire  bells  drove  all  thought  of  Bobby  out  of  the  boys' 
minds,  as  they  raced  away  to  the  exciting  scene,  to 


THE  LITTLE  HOUSE   IN   THE   GARDEN.  177 

take  their  share  in  the  shouting,  running,  and  tumbling 
about  in  every  one's  way. 

The  great  hotel  was  burning,  and  till  midnight  the 
town  was  in  an  uproar.  No  lives  were  lost,  but  much 
property,  and  nothing  else  was  thought  of  till  dawn. 
A  heavy  shower  did  good  service,  and  about  one  o'clock, 
people  began  to  go  home  tired  out.  Mrs.  Morton  and 
other  ladies  were  too  busy  giving  shelter  to  the  people 
from  the  hotel,  and  making  coffee  for  the  firemen,  to 
send  their  boys  to  bed.  In  fact,  they  could  not  catch 
them  ;  for  the  youngsters  were  wild  with  excitement, 
and  pervaded  the  place  like  will-o'-the-wisps,  running 
errands,  lugging  furniture,  splashing  about  with  water, 
and  howling  till  they  were  as  hoarse  as  crows. 

"  This  is  the  battle  of  Beauvais,  and  we  've  set  the 
city  a-fire  by  flinging  pitch-pots  over  the  walls," 
croaked  Harry  to  Ned  as  they  bumped  against  each 
other,  one  carrying  a  great  coffee-pot  and  the  other  a 
feather-bed, 

"  No,  it 's  the  fall  of  Troy,  and  I  'm  ./Eneas  lugging 
off  the  old  man,"  panted  Ned,  staggering  away  with 
the  heavy  load  on  his  back. 

At  last  the  flurry  was  over,  and  our  three  lads,  very 
dirty,  wet,  and  tired,  went  to  bed  and  to  sleep,  and 
never  once  thought  of  poor  Bobby,  till  next  morning. 
Then  Harry  suddenly  rose  up,  with  an  exclamation 
that  effectually  roused  both  his  brothers. 

"  By  St.  Dennis,  we  've  left  that  boy  there  all  night !  " 

"  He  would  n't  be  such  a  fool  as  to  stay ;  that  old 
lock  's    broken    easy    enough,"    said     Ned,    looking 
troubled,  in  spite  of  his  words. 
12 


178  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  Yes,  he  would !  He  promised,  and  he  '11  keep  his 
word  like  a  true  knight.  It  rained  and  was  cold,  and 
no  one  knew  where  he  was.  Oh  dear,  I  hope  he  is  n't 
dead,"  cried  Billy,  tumbling  out  of  bed  and  into  his 
clothes  as  fast  as  he  could. 

The  others  laughed,  but  dressed  with  unusual 
speed,  and  flew  to  the  garden  house,  to  find  the 
lock  unbroken,  and  all  as  still  inside  as  when  they  left 
it.  Looking  very  anxious,  Harry  opened  the  door  and 
all  peeped  in.  There,  at  his  post  before  the  altar,  lay 
the  little  knight  fast  asleep.  Rain  had  soaked  his 
clothes,  the  chilly  night  air  made  his  lips  and  hands 
purple  with  cold,  and  the  trials  of  those  long  hours 
left  the  round  cheeks  rather  pale.  But  he  still 
guarded  his  arms,  and  at  the  first  sound  was  awake 
and  ready  to  defend  them,  though  somewhat  shaky 
with  sleep  and  stiffness. 

The  penitent  boys  poured  forth  apologies,  in  which 
fire,  remorse,  and  breakfast  were  oddly  mixed.  Bobby 
forgave  them  like  a  gentleman,  only  saying,  with  a 
laugh  and  a  shiver,  "  Guess  I  'd  better  go  home,  ma  '11 
be  worried  about  me.  If  I  'd  known  being  out  all 
night  and  getting  wet  was  part  of  the  business,  I  'd  'a' 
left  word  and  brought  a  blanket.  Be  I  a  Round  Table 
now  ]  Shall  I  have  a  sword,  and  train  with  the  rest  ? 
I  didn't  holler  once,  and  wasn't  much  scared,  for  all 
the  bells,  and  the  dark,  and  the  rain." 

"You've  won  your  spurs,  and  we  '11  knight  you  just 
as  soon  as  we  get  time.  You  're  a  brave  fellow,  and 
I  'm  proud  to  have  you  one  of  my  men.  Please  don't 
say  much   about  this;    we'll  make  it  all  right,  and 


THE  LITTLE   HOUSE   IN   THE   GARDEN.  179 

we  're  awfully  sorry,"  answered  Harry,  while  Ned  put 
his  own  jacket  over  the  wet  shoulders,  and  Billy 
beamed  at  him,  feeling  that  his  friend's  exploit  outdid 
any  of  his  own. 

Bobby  marched  away  as  proudly  as  if  he  already 
saw  the  banners  waving  over  him,  and  felt  the  acco- 
lade that  made  him  a  true  knight.  But  that  happy 
moment  was  delayed  for  some  time,  because  the  cold 
caught  in  that  shower  threatened  a  fit  of  sickness ; 
and  the  boys'  play  looked  as  if  it  might  end  in  sad 
earnest. 

Harry  and  his  brothers  confessed  all  to  mamma, 
listened  with  humility  to  her  lecture  on  true  knight- 
hood, and  did  penance  by  serving  Bobby  like  real 
brothers-in-arms,  while  he  was  ill.  As  soon  as  the 
hardy  boy  was  all  right  again,  they  took  solemn  coun- 
sel together  how  they  should  reward  him,  and  atone 
for  their  carelessness.  Many  plans  were  discussed,  but 
none  seemed  fine  enough  for  this  occasion  till  Billy 
had  a  bright  idea. 

"  Let 's  buy  Bob  some  hens.  He  wants  some  dread- 
fully, and  we  ought  to  do  something  grand  after  treat- 
ing him  so  badly,  and  nearly  killing  him." 

"Who's  got  any  money?  I  haven't;  but  it's  a 
good  idea,"  responded  Ned,  vainly  groping  in  all  his 
pockets  for  a  cent  to  head  the  subscription  with. 

"Mamma  would  lend  us  some,  and  we  could  work 
to  pay  for  it,"  began  Billy. 

"  No,  I  've  a  better  plan,"  interrupted  Harry  with 
authority.  "We  ought  to  mako  a  sacrifice  and  suffer 
for  our  sins.     We  will  have  an  auction  and  sell  our 


180  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

arms.  The  boys  want  them,  and  will  pay  well.  My 
lords  and  gentlemen,  what  say  ye  1 " 

"  We  will ! "  responded  the  loyal  subjects  of  King 
Henry. 

"  Winter  is  coming,  and  we  can't  use  them,"  said 
Billy,  innocently. 

"And  by  next  spring  we  shall  be  too  old  for  such 
games,"  added  Ned. 

"  Tis  well !  Ho !  call  hither  my  men.  Bring  out 
the  suits  of  mail;  sound  the  trumpets,  and  set  on!" 
thundered  Harry,  striking  an  attitude,  and  issuing  his 
commands  with  royal  brevity. 

A  funny  scene  ensued  ;  for  while  Billy  ran  to  col- 
lect the  boys,  Ned  dismantled  the  armory,  and  Hal  dis- 
posed of  the  weapons  in  the  most  effective  manner,  on 
trees,  fences,  and  grass,  where  the  bidders  could  ex- 
amine and  choose  at  their  ease.  Their  mates  had 
always  admired  and  coveted  these  war-like  treasures, 
for  some  were  real,  and  others  ingenious  imitations  ;  so 
they  gladly  came  at  sound  of  the  hunter's  horn  which 
was  blown  when  Robin  Hood  wanted  his  merry  men. 

Harry  was  auctioneer,  and  rattled  off  the  most 
amazing  medley  of  nonsense  in  praise  of  the  articles, 
which  he  rapidly  knocked  down  to  the  highest  bidder. 
The  competition  was  lively,  for  the  boys  laughed  so 
much  they  hardly  knew  what  they  were  doing,  and 
made  the  rashest  offers ;  but  they  all  knew  what  the 
money  was  to  be  used  for,  so  they  paid  their  bills 
handsomely,  and  marched  off  with  cross-bows,  old 
guns,  rusty  swords,  and  tin  armor,  quite  contented 
with  their  bargains.' 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE   IN   THE    GARDEN.  181 

Seven  dollars  was  realized  by  the  sale,  and  a  fine 
rooster  and  several  hens  solemnly  presented  to  Bobby, 
who  was  overwhelmed  by  this  unexpected  atonement, 
and  immediately  established  his  fowls  in  the  wood- 
shed, where  they  happily  resided  through  the  winter, 
and  laid  eggs  with  such  gratifying  rapidity  that  he 
earned  quite  a  little  fortune,  and  insisted  on  saying 
that  his  vigil  had  not  only  made  a  knight  of  him,  but 
a  millionnaire. 

III.     Babies. 

The  little  house  stood  empty  till  spring;  then  a 
great  stir  went  on  in  the  garden,  getting  it  ready  for  a 
new  occupant.  It  was  mended,  painted  red,  fitted  up 
with  a  small  table  and  chairs,  and  a  swing.  Sun- 
flowers stood  sentinel  at  the  door,  vines  ran  over  it, 
and  little  beds  of  flowers  were  planted  on  either  side. 
Paths  were  dug  all  round  the  lawn,  and  a  baby-car- 
riage was  rolled  up  and  down  to  harden  them.  The 
neighbors  wondered  what  was  coming  next,  and  one 
June  day  they  found  out ;  for  a  procession  appeared, 
escorting  the  new  tenant  to  the  red  mansion,  with 
great  rejoicing  among  the  boys. 

First  came  Billy  blowing  the  horn,  then  Ned  waving 
their  best  banner,  then  Hal  drawing  the  baby  wagon, 
in  which,  as  on  a  throne,  sat  the  little  cousin  who  had 
come  to  spend  the  summer,  and  rule  over  them  like  a 
small,  sweet  tyrant.  A  very  sprightly  damsel  was  four- 
year-old  Queenie,  blue-eyed,  plump,  and  rosy,  with 
a  cloud  of  yellow  curls,  chubby  arms  that  embraced 


182  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

every  one,  and  a  pair  of  stout  legs  that  trotted  all  day. 
She  surveyed  her  kingdom  with  cries  of  delight,  and 
took  possession  of  "  mine  tottage  "  at  once,  beginning 
housekeeping  by  a  tumble  out  of  the  swing,  a  header 
into  the  red  chest,  and  a  pinch  in  the  leaf  of  the  table. 
But  she  won  great  praise  from  the  boys  by  making 
light  of  these  mishaps,  and  came  up  smiling,  with  a 
bump  on  her  brow,  a  scratch  on  her  pug  nose,  and  a 
bruise  on  one  fat  finger,  and  turned  out  tea  for  the 
gentlemen  as  if  she  had  done  it  all  her  life  ;  for  the  ta- 
ble was  set,  and  all  manner  of  tiny  cakes  and  rolls 
stood  ready  to  welcome  her. 

This  was  only  the  beginning  of  tea  parties  ;  for  very 
soon  a  flock  of  lovely  little  friends  came  to  play  with 
Queenie,  and  such  pretty  revels  went  on  it  seemed  as 
if  fairies  had  taken  possession  of  the  small  house.  Dolls 
had  picnics,  kittens  went  a-visiting,  tin  carts  rattled  up 
and  down,  gay  balloons  flew  about,  pigmy  soldiers  tod- 
dled round  the  paths  in  paper  caps,  and  best  of  all,  rosy 
little  girls  danced  on  the  grass,  picked  the  flowers,  chased 
butterflies,  and  sang  as  blithely  as  the  birds.  Queenie 
took  the  lead  in  these  frolics,  and  got  into  no  end  of 
scrapes  by  her  love  of  exploration,  —  often  leading  her 
small  friends  into  the  strawberry-bed,  down  the  road, 
over  the  wall,  or  to  some  neighbor's  house,  coolly  de- 
manding "  a  dint  a  water  and  dingerbed  for  all  us 
ones." 

Guards  were  set,  bars  and  locks  put  up,  orders  given, 
and  punishments  inflicted,  but  all  in  vain  ;  the  daunt- 
less baby  always  managed  to  escape,  and  after  anxious 
hunts  and  domestic  flurries,  would  be  found  up  a  tree, 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE  IN   THE   GARDEN.  183 

under  the  big  rhubarb  leaves,  in  a  hen  house,  or  calmly 
strolling  to  town  wfthout  her  hat.  All  sorts  of  people 
took  her  to  drive  at  her  request,  and  brought  her  back 
just  as  her  agitated  relatives  were  flying  to  the  river  in 
despair.  Once  she  departed  with  a  flock  of  sheep,  and 
was  returned  so  dirty  no  one  knew  her  till  she  was 
scrubbed.  Another  time,  she  passed  the  morning  in 
the  pig-pen,  having  fallen  over  the  fence ;  and  finding 
pleasant  society  in  a  dozen  young  piggies,  stayed  to 
play  with  them  till  discovered  among  the  straw,  sur- 
rounded by  her  new  friends,  one  of  whom  slept  sweetly 
in  her  arms. 

"  We  must  tie  her  up,"  said  Mrs.  Morton,  quite  worn 
out  with  her  pranks. 

So  a  strong  cord  was  put  round  Queenie's  waist,  and 
fastened  to  one  of  the  rings  in  the  little  house  where 
Tom  used  to  be  chained.  At  first  she  raged  and  tugged, 
then  submitted,  and  played  about  as  if  she  did  n't  care  % 
but  she  laid  plans  in  her  naughty  little  mind,  and  car- 
ried them  out,  to  the  great  dismay  of  Bessie,  the  maid. 

"  I  want  to  tut  drass,"  she  said  in  her  most  persua- 
sive tones. 

So  Bessie  gave  her  the  rusty  scissors  she  was  allowed 
to  use,  and  let  her  play  make  hay  till  her  toy  wagon 
was  full. 

"  I  want  a  dint  a  water,  pease,"  was  the  next  request, 
and  Bessie  went  in  to  get  it.  She  was  delayed  a  few 
moments,  and  when  she  came  out  no  sign  of  Queenie 
remained  but  a  pile  of  yellow  hair  cut  off  in  a  hurry, 
and  the  end  of  the  cord.  Slyboots  was  gone,  scissors 
and  all. 


184  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Then  there  was  racing  and  calling,  scolding  and 
wailing,  but  no  Queenie  was  to  be  seen  anywhere  on 
the  premises.  Poor  Bessie  ran  one  way,  Aunt  Mor- 
ton another,  and  Billy,  who  happened  to  be  at  home, 
poked  into  all  the  nooks  and  corners  for  the  run- 
away. 

An  hour  passed,  and  things  began  to  look  serious, 
when  Harry  came  in  much  excited,  and  laughing  so  he 
could  hardly  speak. 

"  Where  do  you  think  that  dreadful  baby  has  turned 
up  1  Over  at  Pat  Floyd's.  He  found  her  in  the  water 
pipes.  You  know  a  lot  of  those  big  ones  are  lying  in 
the  back  street  ready  to  use  as  soon  as  the  place  is  dug. 
Well,  that  little  rascal  crept  in,  and  then  could  n't  turn 
round,  so  she  went  on  till  she  came  out  by  Pat's  house, 
and  nearly  scared  him  out  of  his  wits.  The  pipes  were 
not  joined,  so  she  had  light  and  air,  but  I  guess  she  had 
a  hard  road  to  travel.  Such  a  hot,  dirty,  tired  baby 
you  never  saw.  Mrs.  Floyd  is  washing  her  up.  You  'd 
better  go  and  get  her,  Bess." 

Bess  went  and  returned  with  naughty  Queenie,  look- 
ing as  if  rats  had  gnawed  her  curls  off,  and  the  sand  of 
the  great  desert  had  been  ground  into  her  hands  and 
knees,  —  not  to  mention  the  iron  rust  that  ruined  her 
pretty  pink  frock,  or  the  crown  of  her  hat  rubbed  to 
rags. 

"  I  was  n't  frighted.  You  said  Dod  be  'd  all  wound, 
so  I  goed  wite  alon,  and  Mis  Foyd  gived  me  a  nice  cold 
tater,  and  a  tootie,  and  the  bid  dord  washed  my  hands 
wif  his  wed  tun." 

That  was  Queenie's  account  of  the  matter,  but  she 


THE   LITTLE   HOUSE  IN   THE   GARDEN.  185 

behaved  so  well  after  it  that  her  friends  suspected  the 
perilous  prank  had  made  a  good  impression  upon  her. 

To  keep  her  at  home  she  was  set  to  farming,  and  the 
little  house  was  a  barn.  In  it  lived  a  rocking  horse, 
several  wooden  cows,  woolly  sheep,  cats  and  dogs,  as 
well  as  a  queer  collection  of  carts  and  carriages,  tools 
and  baskets.  Every  day  the  busy  little  farmer  dug 
and  hoed,  planted  and  watered  her  "dardin,"  made 
hay,  harvested  vegetables,  picked  fruit,  or  took  care  of 
animals,  — pausing  now  and  then  to  ride  her  horse,  drive 
out  in  her  phaeton,  or  go  to  an  imaginary  fire  with  the 
engine  Billy  had  made  for  her. 

The  little  friends  came  to  help  her,  and  the  flower- 
beds soon  looked  as  if  an  earthquake  had  upheaved 
them  ;  for  things  were  planted  upside  down,  holes  dug, 
stones  piled,  and  potatoes  laid  about  as  if  expected  to 
dig  themselves.  But  cheeks  bloomed  like  roses,  small 
hands  got  brown,  and  busy  feet  trotted  firmly  about 
the  paths,  while  the  red  barn  echoed  with  the  gayest 
laughter  all  day  long. 

On  Queenie's  fifth  birthday,  in  September,  she  had  a 
gipsy  party,  and  all  the  small  neighbors  came  to  it. 
A  tent  was  pitched,  three  tall  poles  held  up  a  kettle 
over  a  "  truly  fire  "  that  made  the  water  really  boil,  and 
supper  was  spread  on  the  grass.  The  little  girls  wore 
red  and  blue  petticoats,  gay  shawls  or  cloaks,  bright 
handkerchiefs  on  their  heads,  and  as  many  beads  and 
breastpins  as  they  liked.  Some  had  tamborines,  and 
shook  them  as  they  danced ;  one  carried  a  dolly  in  the 
hood  of  her  cloak  like  a  true  gypsy,  and  all  sung, 
skipping  hand  in  hand  round  the  fire. 


186  SPINNING  WHEEL    STORIES. 

The  mammas  looked  on  and  helped  about  supper, 
and  Bess  sat  in  the  tent  like  an  old  woman,  and  told 
pleasant  fortunes,  as  she  looked  in  the  palms  of  the  soft 
little  hands  the  children  showed  her. 

They  had  a  charming  time,  and  all  remembered  it 
well ;  for  that  night,  when  the  fan  was  over,  every  one 
in  bed,  and  the  world  asleep,  a  great  storm  came  on  ; 
the  wind  blew  a  gale  and  chimney  tops  flew  off,  blinds 
banged,  trees  were  broken,  apples  whisked  from  the 
boughs  by  the  bushel,  and  much  mischief  was  done.  But 
worst  of  all,  the  dear  little  house  blew  away !  The 
roof  went  in  one  direction,  the  boards  in  another,  the 
poor  horse  lay  heels  up,  and  the  rest  of  the  animals 
were  scattered  far  and  wide  over  the  garden. 

Great  was  the  lamentation  next  morning,  when  the 
children  saw  the  ruin.  The  boys  felt  that  it  was  past 
mending,  and  gave  it  up  ;  while  Queenie  consoled  her- 
self for  the  devastation  of  her  farm  by  the  childish  be- 
lief that  a  crop  of  new  cats  and  dogs,  cows  and  horses, 
would  come  up  in  the  spring  from  the  seed  sowed  broad- 
cast by  the  storm. 

So  that  was  the  sad  end  of  the  little  house  in  the 
garden. 


"  Plenty  of  time  for  another.  Let  the  little  folks 
go  to  bed,  now  they  've  had  their  story,  and  please  go 
on,  auntie,"  cried  Min,  when  all  had  listened  with 
more  interest  than  they  would  confess  to  the  children's 
tale. 

So  the  small  people  trotted  off,  much  against  their 
will,  and  this  most  obliging  of  aunts  drew  forth 
another  manuscript,  saying,  as  she  glanced  at  several 
of  her  elder  nieces,  brave  in  the  new  trinkets  Santa 
Claus  had  sent  them  :  — 

"  This  is  a  story  with  a  moral  to  it,  which  the  girls 
will  understand ;  the  boys  can  take  naps  while  I  read, 
for  it  won't  interest  them." 

"  If  it  shows  up  the  girls  we  shall  like  it,"  answered 
Geoff,  and  composed  himself  to  hear  and  enjoy 

DAISY'S  JEWEL-BOX,   AND  HOW  SHE 
FILLED   IT. 


"  It  would  be  perfectly  splendid,  and  just  what  I 
long  for,  but  I  don't  see  how  I  can  go  with  nothing 


188  SPINNING- WHEEL    STORIES. 

fit  to  wear,"  said  Daisy,  looking  up  from  the  letter  in 
her  hand,  with  a  face  full  of  girlish  eagerness  and 
anxiety. 

Mrs.  Field  set  every  fear  at  rest  with  a  reassuring 
smile,  as  she  quietly  made  one  of  the  sacrifices  mothers 
think  so  small,  when  made  for  the  dear  creatures  for 
whom  they  live. 

"  You  shall  go,  dear ;  I  have  a  little  sum  put  by 
for  an  emergency.  Twenty-five  dollars  will  do  a  good 
deal,  when  tastes  are  simple  and  we  do  our  own  dress- 
making." 

"  But  mother,  that  was  for  your  cloak.  You  need 
it  so  much  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  give  it  up,"  said 
sober  little  Jane,  the  home-girl,  who  never  cared  for 
visiting  like  her  gay  elder  sister. 

"  Hush,  dear;  I  can  do  very  well  with  a  shawl  over 
my  old  sack..  Don't  say  a  word  to  spoil  Daisy's 
pleasure.  She  needs  a  change  after  this  dull  autumn, 
and  must  be  neat  and  nice." 

Janey  said  no  more,  and  fell  to  thinking  what  she 
had  to  offer  Daisy ;  for  both  took  great  pride  in  the 
pretty  girl,  who  was  the  queen  among  her  young 
friends. 

Daisy  heard,  but  was  so  busy  re-reading  the  letter 
that  she  took  no  notice  then,  though  she  recalled  the 
words  later. 

"  Come  and  pass  the  holidays  with  us.  "We  all 
want  to  see  you,  and  Laura  begs  you  will  not  dis- 
appoint her." 

This  was  the  invitation  that  came  from  Laura's 
mother ;  for  the  two  girls  had  struck  up  a  great  friend- 


DAISY'S   JEWEL-BOX;    HOW   SHE   FILLED   IT.       189 

ship  during  the  summer  the  city  family  passed  in  the 
little  country  town  where  Daisy  lived.  She  had 
ardently  hoped  that  Laura  would  not  forget  the 
charming  plan,  and  now  the  cordial  message  came, 
just  when  the  season  would  be  gayest  in  town. 

"  I  suppose  I  must  have  the  everlasting  white 
muslin  for  a  party  dress,  as  that  is  the  cheapest  thing 
a  girl  can  wear.  A  nun's- veiling  is  what  I  long  for, 
but  I  'm  afraid  we  can't  afford  it,"  she  said  with  a 
sigh,  coming  back  from  visions  of  city  delights  to  the 
all-important  question  of  dress. 

"  Yes,  you  can,  and  new  ribbons,  gloves,  and  slippers 
as  well.  You  are  so  small  it  does  n't  take  much,  and 
we  can  make  it  right  up  ourselves.  So  run  and  collect 
all  your  little  finery,  w7hile  I  go  and  do  the  shopping 
at  once." 

"  You  dearest  of  mothers  !  how  you  always  manage 
to  give  me  what  I  want,  and  smooth  all  my  worries 
away.  I  '11  be  as  good  as  gold,  and  bring  you  the  best 
present  I  can  find." 

Daisy's  grateful  kiss  warmed  the  dear  woman's 
heart,  and  made  her  forget  how  shabby  the  old  sack 
was,  as  she  trudged  away  to  spend  the  money  carefully 
hoarded  for  the  much  needed  cloak. 

Xeedles  and  fingers  flew,  and  two  days  before  Christ- 
mas, Daisy  set  out  for  the  enchanted  city,  feeling  very 
rich  with  the  pretty  new  dress  in  her  trunk,  and  five 
dollars  for  pocket  money.  It  seemed  a  large  sum  to  the 
country  girl,  and  she  planned  to  spend  it  all  in  gifts 
for  mother  and  Janey,  whose  tired  faces  rather  haunted 
her  after  she  had  caught  the  last  glimpse  of  them. 


190  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

Her  reception  was  a  warm  one,  for  all  the  Vaughns 
were  interested  in  the  blooming  little  creature  they 
had  found  among  the  hills,  and  did  their  best  to  make 
her  visit  a  pleasant  one.  The  first  day  she  was  in  a 
delightful  sort  of  maze,  thiugs  were  so  splendid,  gay 
and  new ;  the  second  she  felt  awkward  and  countri- 
fied, and  wished  she  had  not  come.  A  letter  from  her 
mother  on  Christmas  morning  did  her  good,  and  gave 
her  courage  to  bear  the  little  trials  that  afflicted  her. 

"  My  clothes  do  look  dowdy  beside  Laura's  elegant 
costumes,  though  they  did  seem  very  nice  at  home ; 
but  my  hair  is  n't  red,  and  that 's  a  comfort,"  she  said 
to  herself,  as  she  dressed  for  the  party  that  evening. 

She  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  bonny  figure  she 
saw  in  the  long  mirror,  and  wishing  mother  and  Janey 
could  see  the  work  of  their  hands  in  all  its  glory ;  for 
the  simple  white  dress  was  most  becomiug,  and  hei 
kind  host  had  supplied  her  with  lovely  flowers  for 
bosom  and  bouquet. 

But  the  smile  died  as  she  took  up  her  one  ornament, 
an  antique  necklace,  given  her  by  an  old  aunt.  At 
home  it  was  considered  a  very  rare  and  beautiful 
thing,  and  Daisy  had  been  rather  proud  of  her  rococo 
chain  till  she  saw  Laura's  collection  of  trinkets,  the 
variety  and  brilliancy  of  which  dazzled  her  eyes,  and 
woke  a  burning  desire  to  possess  treasures  of  the  same 
sort.  It  was  some  consolation  to  find  that  the  most 
striking  were  not  very  expensive,  and  after  poring  over 
them  with  deep  interest,  Daisy  privately  resolved  to  buy 
as  many  as  her  five  dollars  would  compass.  These  new 
ornaments  could  be  worn  during  her  visit,  and  serve 


DAISY'S   JEWEL-BOX;    HOW   SHE   FILLED   IT.       191 

as  gifts  when  she  went  home  ;  so  the  extravagance 
would  not  be  so  great  as  it  seemed. 

This  purpose  comforted  her,  as  she  put  on  the  old 
necklace,  which  looked  very  dingy  beside  the  Rhine- 
stones that  flashed,  the  silver  bangles  that  clashed, 
and  the  gilded  butterflies,  spiders,  arrows,  flowers,  and 
daggers  that  shone  on  the  young  girls  whom  she  met 
that  evening.  Their  fine  dresses  she  could  not  hope 
to  imitate,  but  a  pin  and  a  pair  of  bracelets  wrere 
possible,  and  she  resolved  to  have  them,  if  she  had  to 
borrow  money  to  get  home  with. 

Her  head  was  quite  turned  by  this  desire  for  the 
cheap  trinkets  which  attract  all  feminine  eyes  now-a- 
days,  and  when,  among  the  pretty  things  that  came 
to  her  from  the  Christmas  tree  that  night,  she  received 
a  blue  plush  jewel-box,  she  felt  that  it  was  almost 
a  duty  to  fill  it  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  beauty  1  I  never  had  one,  and  it  is  just 
what  I  wanted,"  said  Daisy,  delightedly  lifting  the 
tray  full  of  satin  beds  for  pretty  things,  and  pulling 
out  the  little  drawer  underneath,  where  the  giver's 
card  lay. 

"  I  told  papa  a  work-box  or  a  fan  would  be  better  ; 
but  he  liked  this  and  would  buy  it,"  explained  Laura, 
who  knew  how  useless  it  was  to  her  friend. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  him,  and  I  prefer  it  to  either 
of  those.  I  've  nothing  but  my  old  chain  and  a  shabby 
little  pin  to  put  in  it  now,  but  I  '11  fill  it  in  time," 
answered  Daisy,  whose  eyes  seemed  to  behold  the 
unbought  treasures  already  reposing  on  the  dainty 
cushion. 


192  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

"Real  jewels  are  the  best,  my  dear,  for  their  worth 
and  beauty  are  never  lost.  The  tinsel  girls  wear  now 
is  poor  stuff,  and  money  is  thrown  away  in  buying  it," 
said  Mrs.  Vaughn,  who  overheard  them  and  guessed 
the  temptation  which  beset  the  little  country  girl. 

Daisy  looked  conscious,  but  answered,  with  a  smile, 
and  a  hand  on  her  necklace,  "  This  old  thing  would  n't 
look  well  in  my  pretty  box,  so  I  '11  leave  it  empty  till 
I  can  afford  something  better." 

"  But  that  antique  chain  is  worth  many  mock 
diamonds ;  for  it  is  genuine,  and  its  age  adds  to  its 
value.  Lovers  of  such  things  would  pay  a  good  price 
for  that  and  keep  it  carefully.  So  don't  be  ashamed 
of  it,  my  dear,  —  though  this  pretty  throat  needs  no 
ornament,"  added  Mrs.  Vaughn,  hoping  the  girl  would 
not  forget  the  little  lesson  she  was  trying  to  give  her. 

Daisy  did  not,  but  when  she  went  to  bed,  set  the 
jewel-box  on  the  table  where  it  would  meet  her  eyes 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and  then  fell  asleep 
trying  to  decide  that  she  would  buy  no  baubles,  since 
there  were  better  things  to  spend  her  money  on. 

Nothing  more  was  said ;  but  as  the  two  girls  went 
about  the  gay  street  on  various  pleasant  errands, 
Daisy  never  could  pass  the  jewellers'  windows  without 
stopping  to  gloat  over  the  trays  full  of  enchanting 
ornaments.  More  than  once,  when  alone,  she  went  in 
to  inquire  the  prices  of  these  much  coveted  trifles,  and 
their  cheapness  made  the  temptation  harder  to  resist. 
Certain  things  had  a  sort  of  fascination  for  her,  and 
seemed  to  haunt  her  in  an  uncanny  way,  giving  her  no 
peace   till   she  would  decide  to  buy  them.     A  golden 


DAISY'S  JEWEL-BOX;    HOW   SHE   FILLED  IT.       193 

rose  with  a  diamond  drop  of  dew  on  its  leaves  got  into 
her  very  dreams ;  an  enamelled  butterfly  flew  before 
her  as  she  walked,  and  a  pair  of  silver  bangles  rattled 
in  her  ear  like  goblin  castanets. 

"  I  shall  not  be  safe  till  I  spend  that  money,  so  I 
might  as  well  decide  on  something  and  be  at  peace," 
said  poor  Daisy,  after  some  days  of  this  girlish  strug- 
gle ;  "  I  need  n't  buy  anything  for  mother  and  Janey, 
for  I  can  share  my  nice  and  useful  presents  with 
them ;  but  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  show  the  girls 
my  lovely  jewel-box  with  something  pretty  in  it,  and 
I  will !  Laura  need  n't  know  anything  about  it,  for 
F  m  sure  she'd  think  it  silly,  and  so  would  her  mother. 
I  '11  slip  in  now  and  buy  that  rose  ;  it 's  only  three 
dollars,  and  the  other  two  will  get  one  porte-bonheur, 
or  the  dear  butterfly." 

Making  her  way  through  the  crowd  that  always 
stood  before  the  brilliant  window,  Daisy  went  in  and 
demanded  the  rose  ;  then,  rather  scared  by  this  reck- 
less act  she  paused,  and  decided  to  look  farther  before 
buying  anything  else.  With  a  pleasant  little  flutter 
of  the  heart  as  the  pretty  trinket  was  done  up,  she  put 
her  hand  into  her  pocket  to  pay  for  it,  and  all  the 
color  died  out  of  her  cheeks  when  she  found  no  purse 
there.  In  vain  she  pulled  out  handkerchief,  keys,  and 
pincushion  ;  no  sign  of  money  was  found  but  a  ten- 
cent  piece  which  had  fallen  out  at  some  time.  She 
looked  so  pale  and  dismayed  that  the  shopman  guessed 
her  misfortune  before  she  told  it,  but  all  the  comfort 
he  offered  was  the  useless  information  that  the 
crowded  corner  was  a  great  place  for  pick-pockets. 
13 


194  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  return  the 
rose  and  go  sadly  home,  feeling  that  fate  was  very 
cruel  to  snatch  away  this  long-coveted  happiness  when 
so  nearly  won.  Like  the  milk-maid  who  upset  her 
pail  while  planning  which  ribbons  would  become  her 
best,  poor  Daisy's  dreams  of  splendor  came  to  a  sud- 
den end  ;  for  instead  of  a  golden  rose,  she  was  left  with 
only  ten  cents,  —  and  not  even  a  purse  to  put  it  in. 

She  went  home  angry,  disappointed,  and  ashamed, 
but  too  proud  to  complain,  though  not  able  to  keep 
the  loss  to  herself ;  for  it  was  a  sad  affair,  and  her  face 
betrayed  her  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  be  gay. 

"  I  know  you  were  staring  at  the  French  diamonds 
in  that  corner  store.  I  never  can  get  you  by  there 
without  a  regular  tug,"  cried  Laura,  when  the  tale 
was  very  briefly  told. 

"I  can't  help  it:  I'm  perfectly  fascinated  b}r  those 
foolish  things,  and  I  know  I  should  have  bought 
some ;  so  it  is  well  that  I  've  lost  my  money,  per- 
haps," answered  Daisy,  looking  so  innocently  penitent 
and  so  frankly  disappointed  that  Mr.  Vaughn  said 
kindly  :  — 

"  So  it  is,  for  now  I  have  a  chance  to  complete  my 
Christmas  present.  I  was  not  sure  it  would  suit  so  I 
gave  it  empty.  Please  use  this  in  buying  some  of  the 
'  fascinating  things  '  you  like  so  well." 

A  bright  ten-dollar  gold  piece  was  slipped  into 
Daisy's  hand,  and  she  was  obliged  to  keep  it,  in  spite 
of  all  her  protestations  that  she  could  live  without 
trinkets,  and  did  not  need  it  as  her  ticket  home  was 
already   bought.     Mrs.    Vaughn  added   a  nice    little 


DAISY'S  JEWEL-BOX;    HOW   SHE   FILLED   IT.       195 

purse,  and  Laura  advised  her  to  keep  the  lone  ten-cent 
piece  for  a  good-luck  penny. 

"  Now  I  can  do  it  with  a  free  mind,  and  fill  my  box 
as  Mr.  Vaughn  wishes  me  to.  Won't  it  be  fun?" 
thought  Daisy,  as  she  skipped  up-stairs  after  dinner, 
with  a  load  of  care  lifted  from  her  spirits. 

Laura  was  taking  a  music  lesson,  so  her  guest  went 
to  the  sewing-room  to  mend  the  facing  of  her  dress, 
which  some  one  had  stepped  on  while  she  stood  in 
that  fatal  crowd.  A  seamstress  was  there,  sewing  as  if 
for  a  wager,  and  while  Daisy  stitched  her  braid  she 
wondered  if  there  was  any  need  of  such  haste  ;  for  the 
young  woman's  fingers  flew,  a  feverish  color  was  in  her 
cheeks,  and  now  and  then  she  sighed  as  if  tired  or 
worried. 

"  Let  mc  help,  if  you  are  in  a  hurry,  Miss  White.  I 
can  sew  fast,  and  know  something  of  dressmaking. 
Please  let  me.  I'd  love  to  do  anything  for  Mrs. 
Vaughn,  she  is  so  kind  to  me,"  said  Daisy,  when  her 
small  job  was  done,  lingering  to  make  the  offer,  though 
an  interesting  book  was  waiting  in  her  room. 

"  Thank  you,  I  guess  I  can  get  through  by  dark.  I 
do  want  to  finish,  for  my  mother  is  sick,  and  needs 
me  as  well  as  the  money,"  answered  the  needle- 
woman, pausing  to  give  the  girl  a  grateful  smile,  then 
stitching  away  faster  than  ever. 

"  Then  I  must  help.  Give  me  that  sleeve  to  sew 
up,  and  rest  a  little.  You  look  dreadfully  tired,  and 
you've  been  working  all  day,"  insisted  Daisy. 

"  That 's  real  kind,  and  it  would  be  a  great  help,  if 
you  really  like  it,"  answered  Miss  White,  with  a  sigh 


196  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

of  relief  as  she  handed  over  the  sleeve,  and  saw  how 
heartily  and  helpfully  Daisy  fell  to  work. 

Of  course  they  talked,  for  the  friendly  act  opened 
both  hearts,  and  did  both  girls  good.  As  the  younger 
listened  to  the  little  story  of  love  and  labor,  the  gold 
piece  burned  in  her  pocket,  and  tinsel  trinkets  looked 
very  poor  beside  the  sacrifices  so  sweetly  made  by  this 
good  daughter  for  the  feeble  mother  whose  comfort 
and  support  she  was. 

"  Our  landlord  has  raised  the  rent,  but  I  can't  move 
now,  for  the  cold  and  the  worry  would  kill  ma;  so 
I  'm  tugging  away  to  pay  the  extra  money,  else  he 
will  turn  us  out,  I  'm  afraid." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  Mrs.  Vaughn?  She  helps 
every  one,  and  loves  to  do  it." 

"  So  she  does,  bless  her  !  She  has  done  a  deal  for 
us,  and  that 's  why  I  can't  ask  for  more.  I  won't  beg 
while  I  can  work,  but  worry  wears  on  me,  and  if  I 
break  down  what  will  become  of  mother  1 " 

Poor  Mary  shook  the  tears  out  of  her  eyes,  for  day- 
light was  going,  and  she  had  no  time  to  cry ;  but 
Daisy  stopped  to  wonder  how  it  would  seem  to  be  in 
her  place,  "tugging  away  "  day  after  day  to  keep  a 
roof  over  mother.  It  made  her  heart  ache  to  think  of 
it,  and  sent  her  hand  to  her  pocket  with  a  joyful  sense 
of  power;  for  alms-giving  was  a  new  pleasure,  and 
Daisy  felt  very  rich. 

"  I  've  had  a  present  to-day,  and  I  'd  love  dearly  to 
share  it  with  you  if  you  would  n't  mind.  I  shall  only 
waste  it,  so  do  let  me  send  it  to  your  mother  in  any 
shape  you  like,"  she  said  in  a  timid,  but  very  earnest  way. 


DAISY'S  JEWEL-BOX;    HOW   SHE   FILLED   IT.        197 

"  Oh,  Miss  Field  !  I  could  n't  do  it !  you  are  too 
kind;  I  never  thought  of  hinting"  —  began  Mary, 
quite  overcome  by  this  unexpected  proposal. 

Daisy  settled  the  matter  by  running  away  to  the 
study,  where  Mr.  Vaughn  was  napping,  to  ask  him  if 
he  would  give  her  two  fives  for  the  gold  piece. 

"  Ah !  the  fascination  is  at  work,  I  see ;  and  we 
can't  wait  till  Monday  to  buy  the  pretty  things. 
Girls  will  be  girls,  and  must  sow  their  innocent  wild 
oats  I  suppose.  Here,  my  dear,  beware  of  pick- 
pockets, and  good  luck  to  the  shopping,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  as  he  put  two  crisp  bills  into  her  hands, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  Pick-pockets  wont  get  this,  and  I  know  my  shop- 
ping will  prosper  now,"  answered  Daisy,  in  such  a 
happy  tone  that  Mr.  Vaughn  wondered  what  plan  was 
in  the  girl's  head  to  make  her  look  so  sweet  and 
glad. 

She  went  slowly  up-stairs  looking  at  the  two  bills, 
which  did  not  seem  half  so  precious  as  when  in  the 
shape  of  gold. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  would  be  very  extravagant  to  give 
her  all  of  it.  I  shall  do  some  silly  thing  if  I  keep  it. 
Her  boots  were  very  thin,  and  she  coughs,  and  if  she  is 
sick  it  will  be  dreadful.  Suppose  I  give  her  five  for 
herself,  and  five  for  her  mother.  I  'd  love  to  feel 
rich  and  generous  for  once  in  my  life,  and  give  real 
help." 

The  house  was  very  still,  and  Daisy  paused  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs  to  settle  the  point,  little  dreaming 
that  Mrs.  Vaughn  had  heard  the  talk  in  the  sewing- 


198  SPINNING- WHEEL    STORIES. 

room,  and  saw  her  as  she  stood  thoughtfully  staring  at 
the  two  bits  of  paper  in  her  hand. 

"  I  should  n't  feel  ashamed  if  Mrs.  Vaughn  found 
me  out  in  this,  but  I  should  never  dare  to  let  her  see 
my  bangles  and  pins,  if  I  got  them.  I  know  she 
thinks  them  silly,  especially  so  for  me.  She  said  she 
hoped  I  'd  set  a  good  example  to  Laura,  in  the  way  of 
simplicity  and  industry.  I  liked  that,  and  so  will 
mother.  But  then,  my  jewel-box  !  All  empty,  and 
such  a  pretty  thing.  Oh  dear,  I  wish  I  could  be  wise 
and  silly  at  the  same  time." 

Daisy  sighed,  and  took  a  few  more  steps,  then 
smiled,  pulled  out  her  purse,  and  taking  the  ten- 
cent  piece  tossed  it  up,  saying,  "Heads,  Mary;  tails, 
myself." 

Up  flew  the  bright  little  coin,  and  down  it  came 
with  the  goddess  of  liberty  uppermost. 

"That  settles  it;  she  shall  have  the  ten,  and  I'll 
be  content  with  the  old  chain  for  all  my  jewelry,"  said 
Daisy  aloud ;  and  looking  much  relieved  she  skipped 
away,  leaving  the  unsuspected  observer  to  smile  at  her 
girlish  mode  of  deciding  the  question,  and  to  rejoice 
over  the  generous  nature  unspoiled  as  yet. 

She  watched  her  young  guest  with  new  interest 
during  the  next  few  days ;  for  certain  fine  plans  were 
in  her  mind,  and  every  trifle  helped  the  decision  for  or 
against. 

Mary  White  went  smiling  home  that  night  to  re- 
joice with  her  feeble  mother  over  the  help  that  came 
so  opportunely  and  so  kindly. 

Daisy   looked   as   if   her   shopping   had   prospered 


DAISY'S   JEWEL-BOX  ;    HOW   SHE   FILLED   IT.        199 

wonderfully  though  the  old  necklace  was  the  only  orna- 
ment she  wore ;  and  those  who  saw  her  happy  face  at 
the  merry-making  thought  that  she  needed  no  other. 
She  danced  as  if  her  feet  were  as  light  as  her  heart, 
and  enjoyed  that  party  more  than  the  first;  for  no 
envy  spoiled  her  pleasure,  and  a  secret  content  bright- 
ened all  the  world  to  her. 

But  the  next  day  she  discovered  that  temptation 
still  had  power  over  her,  and  she  nearly  spoiled  her 
first  self-conquest  by  the  fall  which  is  very  apt  to  come 
after  a  triumph,  to  show  us  how  hard  it  is  to  stand 
fast,  even  when  small  Apollyons  get  in  our  way. 

She  broke  the  clasp  of  the  necklace,  and  Mrs. 
Vaughn  directed  her  to  a  person  who  mended  such 
things.  The  man  examined  it  with  interest,  and 
asked  its  history.  Daisy  very  willingly  told  all  she 
knew,  inquiring  if  it  was  really  valuable. 

"  I  'd  give  twenty-five  dollars  for  it  any  time.  I  've 
been  trying  to  get  one  to  go  with  a  pair  of  earrings 
I  picked  up,  and  this  is  just  what  I  want.  Of  course 
you  don't  care  to  sell  it,  miss]"  he  asked,  glancing 
at  Daisy's  simple  dress  and  rather  excited  face,  for 
his  offer  almost  took  her  breath  away. 

She  was  not  sufficiently  worldly-wise  to  see  that  the 
jeweller  wanted  it  enough  to  give  more  for  it,  and  to 
make  a  good  bargain  for  herself.  Twenty-five  dollars 
seemed  a  vast  sum,  and  she  only  paused  to  collect 
her  wits,  before  she  answered  eagerly  :  — 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  to  sell  it ;  I  've  had  it  so  long 
I  'm  tired  of  it,  and  it 's  all  out  of  fashion.  Mrs. 
Vaughn  told  me  some  people  would  be  glad  to  get  it, 


200  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

because  it  is  genuine.     Do  you  really  think  it  is  worth 
twenty-five  dollars  1 " 

"  It 's  old,  and  I  shall  have  to  tinker  it  up ;  but  it 
matches  the  earrings  so  well  I  am  willing  to  pay  a 
good  price  for  it.  Will  you  take  the  money  now, 
miss,  or  think  it  over  and  call  again]"  asked  the  man, 
more  respectfully,  after  hearing  Mrs.  Vaughn's  name. 

"  I  '11  take  it  now,  if  you  please,  sir.  I  shall  leave 
town  in  a  day  or  two,  and  may  not  have  time  to  call 
again,"  said  Daisy,  taking  a  half-regretful  look  at  the 
chain,  as  the  man  counted  out  the  money. 

Holding  it  fast,  she  went  away  feeling  that  this 
unexpected  fortune  was  a  reward  for  the  good  use 
she  had  made  of  her  gold  piece. 

"  Now  I  can  buy  some  really  valuable  ornament, 
and  wear  it  without  being  ashamed.  What  shall  it 
be  1  No  tinsel  for  me  this  time  ; "  and  she  walked  by 
the  attractive  shop  window  with  an  air  of  lofty  in- 
difference, for  she  really  was  getting  over  her  first 
craze  for  that  sort  of  thing. 

Feeling  as  if  she  possessed  the  power  to  buy  real 
diamonds,  Daisy  turned  toward  the  great  jewellers, 
pausing  now  and  then  to  look  for  some  pretty  gift  for 
Janey,  bought  with  her  own  money. 

"What  can  I  get  for  mother1?  She  never  will  own 
that  she  needs  anything,  and  goes  shabby  so  I  can  be 
nice.  I  could  get  some  of  those  fine,  thick  stockings, 
hers  are  all  darns, — but  they  might  not  fit.  Flannel 
is  useful,  but  it  is  n't  a  pretty  present.  What  does 
she  need  most  1 " 

As  Daisy  stopped  before  a  great  window,  full  of  all 


DAISY'S  JEWEL-BOX  ;    HOW   SHE   FILLED   IT.       201 

manner  of  comfortable  garments,  her  eye  fell  on  a 
fur-lined  cloak  marked  "  $25.  "  It  seemed  to  answer 
her  question  like  a  voice,  and  as  she  looked  at  it  she 
heard  again  the  words,  — 

"  But,  mother,  that  money  was  for  your  cloak,  and 
you  need  it  very  much." 

"  Hush,  dear,  don't  say  a  word  to  spoil  Daisy's 
pleasure.  I  can  do  very  well  with  a  shawl  over  the 
old  sack." 

"  How  could  I  forget  that !  What  a  selfish  girl  I 
am,  to  be  thinking  of  jewelry,  when  that  dear,  good 
mother  has  n't  a  cloak  to  her  back.  Daisy  Field,  I  'm 
ashamed  of  you  !  Go  in  and  buy  that  nice,  warm  one 
at  once,  and  don't  let  me  hear  of  that  ridiculous  box 
again." 

After  this  little  burst  of  remorse  and  self-reproach, 
Daisy  took  another  look ;  and  prudence  suggested 
asking  the  advice  of  some  more  experienced  shopper 
than  herself,  before  making  so  important  a  purchase. 
As  if  the  fates  were  interested  in  settling  the  matter 
at  once,  while  she  stood  undecided,  Mary  White  came 
down  the  street  with  a  parcel  of  work  in  her  hands. 

"Just  the  person!  The  Vaughns  needn't  know 
anything  about  it;  and  Mary  is  a  good  judge." 

It  was  pleasant  to  see  the  two  faces  brighten  as  the 
girls  met ;  rather  comical  to  watch  the  deep  interest 
with  which  one  listened  and  the  other  explained  ;  and 
beautiful  to  hear  the  grateful  eagerness  in  Mary's 
voice,  as  she  answered  cordially  :  — 

"  Indeed  I  will !  You  ?ve  been  so  kind  to  my  mother, 
there  's  nothing  I  would  n't  be  glad  to  do  for  yours." 


202  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

So  in  they  went,  and  after  due  consideration,  the 
cloak  was  bought  and  ordered  home,  —  both  girls  feel- 
ing that  it  was  a  little  ceremony  full  of  love  and  good 
will ;  for  Mary's  time  was  money,  yet  she  gave  it 
gladly,  and  Daisy's  purse  was  left  empty  of  all  but  the 
good-luck  penny,  which  was  to  bring  still  greater 
happiness  in  unsuspected  ways. 

Another  secret  was  put  away  in  the  empty  jewel- 
box,  and  the  cloak  hidden  in  Daisy's  trunk ;  for  she 
felt  shy  of  telling  her  little  business  transactions,  lest 
the  Vaughns  should  consider  her  extravagant.  But 
the  thought  of  mother's  surprise  and  pleasure  warmed 
her  heart,  and  made  the  last  days  of  her  visit  the 
happiest.  Being  a  mortal  girl  she  did  give  a  sigh  as 
she  tied  a  bit  of  black  velvet  round  her  white  throat, 
instead  of  the  necklace,  which  seemed  really  a  treasure, 
now  it  was  gone ;  and  she  looked  with  great  disfavor 
at  the  shabby  little  pin,  worn  where  she  had  fondly 
hoped  to  see  the  golden  rose.  She  put  a  real  one  in  its 
place,  and  never  knew  that  her  own  fresh,  happy  face 
was  as  lovely;  for  the  thought  of  the  two  mothers 
made  comfortable  by  her  was  better  than  all  the 
pearls  and  diamonds  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  the 
good  girl  in  the  fairy  tale. 

"  Let  me  help  you  pack  your  trunk ;  I  love  to  cram 
things  in,  and  dance  on  the  lid  when  it  won't  shut," 
said  Laura,  joining  her  friend  next  day,  just  as  she 
had  got  the  cloak-box  well  hidden  under  a  layer  of 
clothes. 

"  Thank  you,  I  'm  almost  done,  and  rather  like  to 
fuss  over  my  own  things  in  my  own  way.     You  won't 


DAISY'S  JEWEL-BOX;    HOW   SHE   FILLED   IT.        203 

mind  if  I  give  this  pretty  box  of  handkerchiefs  to 
mother,  will  you,  dear1?  I  have  so  many  things,  I 
must  go  halves  with  some  one.  The  muslin  apron 
and  box  of  bonbons  are  for  Janey,  because  she  can't 
wear  the  gloves,  and  this* lovely  jabot  is  too  old  for 
her,"  said  Daisy,  surveying  her  new  possessions  with 
girlish  satisfaction. 

"  Do  what  you  like  with  your  own.  Mamma  has  a 
box  of  presents  for  your  people.  She  is  packing  it 
now,  but  I  don't  believe  you  can  get  it  in ;  your 
trunk  is  so  much  fuller  than  when  you  came.  This 
must  go  in  a  safe  place,  or  your  heart  will  break," 
and  Laura  took  up  the  jewel-box,  adding  with  a  laugh, 
as  she  opened  it,  "  you  have  n't  filled  it,  after  all  ! 
What  did  you  do  with  papa's  gold  piece]" 

"  That 's  a  secret.  I  '11  tell  some  day,  but  not  yet," 
said  Daisy,  diving  into  her  trunk  to  hide  the  color  in 
her  cheeks. 

"Sly  thing!  I  know  you've  got  silver  spiders  and 
filagree  racquets,  and  Rhine-stone  moons  and  stars 
stowed  away  somewhere  and  won't  confess  it.  I  wanted 
to  fill  this  box,  but  mamma  said  you  'd  do  it  better 
yourself,  so  I  let  it  alone ;  but  I  was  afraid  you  'd  think 
I  was  a  selfish  pig,  to  have  a  pin  for  every  day  in  the 
month  and  never  give  you  one,"  said  Laura,  as  she 
looked  at  the  single  tarnished  brooch  reposing  on  the 
satin  cushion.  "Where's  your  chain]"  she  added, 
before  Daisy  could  speak. 

11  It  is  safe  enough.  I  'm  tired  of  it,  and  don't  care 
if  I  never  see  it  again."  And  Daisy  packed  away, 
and  laughed  as  she  smoothed  the  white  dress  in  its 


204  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

tray,  remembering  that  it  was  paid  for  by  the  sale 
of  the  old  necklace. 

"Give  it  to  me,  then.  I  like  it  immensely;  it's  so 
odd.  I  '11  exchange  for  anything  of  mine  you  choose. 
Will  you  1 "  asked  Laura,  who  seemed  bent  on  asking 
inconvenient  questions. 

"  I  shall  have  to  tell,  or  she  will  think  me  very 
ungrateful,"  —  and  Daisy  felt  a  pang  of  regret  even 
then,  for  Laura's  offer  was  a  generous  one. 

"  Like  G.  W.,  '  I  cannot  tell  a  lie  ; '  so  I  must  ■  fess  ' 
that  I  sold  the  old  thing,  and  spent  the  money  for 
something  I  wanted  very  much,  —  not  jewelry,  but 
something  to  give  away." 

Daisy  was  spared  further  confessions  by  the  entrance 
of  Mrs.  Vaughn,  with  a  box  in  her  hand. 

"  I  have  room  for  something  more.  Give  me  that, 
Laura,  it  will  just  fit  in  ; "  and  taking  the  little  casket, 
she  added,  "  Mary  White  wants  to  try  on  your  dress, 
dear.     Go  at  once ;  I  will  help  Daisy." 

Laura  went,  and  her  mother  stood  looking  down  at 
the  kneeling  girl  with  an  expression  of  affectionate  sat- 
isfaction which  would  have  puzzled  Daisy,  had  she 
seen  it. 

"Has  the  visit  been  a  pleasant  one,  my  deaH" 

"  Oh,  very !  I  can't  thank  you  enough  for  the  good 
it  has  done  me.  I  hope  I  can  pay  a  little  of  the  debt 
next  summer,  if  you  come  our  way  again,"  cried  Daisy, 
looking  up  with  a  face  full  of  gratitude. 

"  We  shall  probably  go  to  Europe  for  the  summer. 
Laura  is  a  good  age  for  it  now,  and  we  shall  all  enjoy  it." 

"  How  splendid  !     We  shall  miss  you  dreadfully,  but 


DAISY'S  JEWEL-BOX;    HOW   SHE   FILLED  IT.       205 

I  'm  glad  you  are  going,  and  I  hope  Laura  will  find 
time  to  write  me  now  and  then.  I  shall  want  to  know 
how  she  likes  the  '  foreign  parts '  we  've  talked  about 
so  much." 

"  You  shall  know.  We  won't  forget  you,  my  dear," 
and  with  a  caressing  touch  on  the  smiling  yet  wistful 
face  upturned  to  hers,  Mrs.  Vaughn  went  away  to  pack 
the  empty  jewel-box,  leaving  Daisy  to  drop  a  few  irre- 
pressible tears  on  the  new  gown,  over  the  downfall  of 
her  summer  hopes,  and  the  longings  all  girls  feel  for 
that  enchanted  world  that  lies  beyond  the  sea. 

"  We  shall  see  you  before  we  go,  so  we  won't  gush 
now,"  said  Laura,  as  she  bade  her  friend  good-by,  add- 
ing in  a  whisper,  "  Some  folks  can  have  secrets  as  well 
as  other  folks,  and  be  as  sly.  So  don't  think  you  have  all 
the  fun  to  yourself,  you  dear,  good,  generous  darling." 

Daisy  looked  bewildered,  and  Mrs.  Vaughn  added  to 
her  surprise  by  kissing  her  very  warmly  as  she  said  : 

"  I  wanted  to  find  a  good  friend  for  my  spoiled  girl, 
and  I  think  I  have  succeeded." 

There  was  no  time  for  explanation,  and  all  the 
way  home  Daisy  kept  wondering  what  they  meant. 
But  she  forgot  everything  when  she  saw  the  dear  faces 
beaming  at  the  door,  and  ran  straight  into  her  moth- 
er's arms,  while  Janey  hugged  the  trunk  till  her  turn 
came  for  something  better. 

When  the  first  raptures  were  over,  out  came  the 
cloak ;  and  Daisy  was  well  repaid  for  her  little  trials 
and  sacrifices  when  she  was  folded  in  it  as  her  mother 
held  her  close,  and  thanked  her  as  mothers  only  can. 
Sitting  in  its  soft  shelter,  she  told  all  about  it,  and 


206  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

coming  to  the  end  said,  as  she  took  up  the  jewel-box, 
unpacked  with  the  other  generous  gifts  :  — 

"  I  have  n't  a  thing  to  put  in  it,  but  I  shall  value  it 
because  it  taught  me  a  lesson  which  I  hope  I  never 
shall  forget.  See  what  a  pretty  thing  it  is ;  "  and  open- 
ing it,  Daisy  gave  a  cry  of  surprise  and  joy,  for  there 
lay  the  golden  rose,  with  Laura's  name  and  "Sub 
rosa"  on  a  slip  of  paper. 

"The  dear  thing!  she  knew  I  wanted  it,  and  that 
is  what  she  meant  by  '  secrets.'  I  '11  write  and  tell  her 
mine  to-morrow." 

"  Here  is  something  more,"  said  Janey,  who  had 
been  lifting  the  tray  while  her  sister  examined  the  long- 
desired  flower. 

A  pair  of  real  gold  bangles  shone  before  her  delighted 
eyes,  and  a  card  in  Mr.  Vaughn's  handwriting  bore 
these  words  :  "  Handcuffs  for  the  thief  who  stole  the 
pocketbook." 

Daisy  hardly  had  time  to  laugh  gayly  at  the  old 
gentleman's  joke,  when  Janey  cried  out,  as  she  opened 
the  little  drawer,   "  Here  's  another  !" 

It  was  a  note  from  Mrs.  Vaughn,  but  all  thought  it 
the  greatest  treasure  of  the  three,  for  it  said  briefly,  — 

"  Dear  Daisy,  —  Mary  told  me  some  of  your  secrets, 
and  I  found  out  the  others.  Forgive  me  and  go  to  Eu- 
rope with  Laura,  in  May.  Your  visit  was  a  little  test. 
You  stood  it  well,  and  we  want  to  know  more  of  you. 
The  little  box  is  not  quite  empty,  but  the  best  jewels 
are  the  self-denial,  sweet  charity,  and  good  sense  you 
put  in  yourself. 

"Your  friend,  A.  V." 


DAISY'S   JEWEL-BOX;    HOW   SHE   FILLED   IT.       207 

Daisy  could  not  speak,  and  her  mother  looked  into 
the  box  with  eyes  full  of  tender  tears,  while  Janey 
danced  about  them,  clashing  the  bangles  like  a  happy 
little  bayadere,  till  her  sister  found  her  voice  again. 

Pointing  to  a  great,  bright  tear  that  shone  on  the 
blue  velvet,  she  said,  with  her  cheek  against  her  moth- 
er's :  "  I  always  wanted  a  real  diamond,  and  there  's  a 
more  precious  one  than  any  I  could  buy.  Now  I  'm 
sure  my  jewel-box  is  full." 


Two  boys  sat  on  the  bars,  one  whittling,  the  other 
whistling,  —  not  for  want  of  thought  by  any  means, 
for  his  brow  was  knit  in  an  anxious  frown,  and  he 
paused  now  and  then  to  thump  the  rail,  with  an 
impatient  exclamation.  The  other  lad  appeared  to  be 
absorbed  in  shaping  an  arrow  from  the  slender  stick 
in  his  hand,  but  he  watched  his  neighbor  with  a  grin, 
saying  a  few  words  occasionally  which  seemed  to  add 
to  his  irritation,  though  they  were  in  a  sympathizing 
tone. 

"  Oh,  well,  if  a  chap  can't  do  a  thing  he  can't ;  and 
he  'd  better  give  up  and  say,  Beat." 

"But  I  won't  give  up,  and  I  never  say  'Beat.' 
I  'm  not  going  to  be  laughed  out  of  it,  and  I  '11  do 
what  I  said  I  would,  if  it  takes  all  summer,  Chris 
Warner." 

"  You'll  have  to  be  pretty  spry,  then,  for  there's 
only  two  more  days  to  August,"  replied  the  whittler, 
shutting  one  eye  to  look  along  his  arrow  and  see  if  it 
was  true. 

14 


210  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

"  I  intend  to  be  spry,  and  if  you  won't  go  and  blab, 
I  '11  tell  you  a  plan  I  made  last  night." 

"Guess  you  can  trust  me.  I've  heard  about  a 
dozen  plans  now,  and  never  told  one  of  'em." 

"  They  all  failed,  so  there  was  nothing  to  tell.  But 
this  one  is  not  going  to  fail,  if  I  die  for  it.  I  feel  that 
it 's  best  to  tell  some  one,  because  it  is  really  dan- 
gerous ;  and  if  anything  should  happen  to  me,  as  is 
very  likely,  it  would  save  time  and  trouble." 

"  Don't  seem  to  feel  anxious  a  mite.  But  I  '11  stand 
ready  to  pick  up  the  pieces,  if  you  come  to  grief." 

"  Now,  Chris,  it 's  mean  of  you  to  keep  on  making 
fun  when  I  'm  in  dead  earnest ;  and  this  may  be  the 
last  thing  you  can  do  for  me." 

"Wait  till  I  get  out  my  handkerchief;  if  you're 
going  to  be  afFectin'  I  may  want  it.  Granite 's  cheap 
up  here  •  just  mention  what  you  'd  like  on  your  tomb- 
stone and  I  '11  see  that  it  's  done,  if  it  takes  my  last 
cent." 

The  big  boy  in  the  blue  overalls  spoke  with  such 
a  comical  drawl  that  the  slender  city  lad  could  not 
help  laughing,  and  with  a  slap  that  nearly  sent  his 
neighbor  off  his  perch,  Corny  said  good-naturedly  : 

"  Come  now,  stop  joking  and  lend  a  hand,  and  I  '11 
do  anything  I  can  for  you.  I've  set  my  heart  on 
shooting  a  wildcat,  and  I  know  I  can  if  I  once  get  a 
good  chance.  Mother  won't  let  me  go  off  far  enough, 
so  of  course  I  don't  do  it,  and  then  you  all  jeer  at  me. 
To-morrow  we  are  going  up  the  mountain,  and  I  'm 
set  on  trying  again,  for  Abner  says  the  big  woods  are 
the  place  to  find  the  '  varmint'.     Now  you  hold  your 


COKNY'S   CATAMOUNT.  211 

tongue,  and  let  me  slip  away  when  I  think  we  've  hit 
the  right  spot.  I  'm  not  a  bit  afraid,  and  while  the 
rest  go  poking  to  the  top,  I  '11  plunge  into  the  woods 
and  see  what  I  can  do." 

"  All  right.  Better  take  old  Buff;  he  '11  bring  you 
home  when  you  get  lost,  and  keep  puss  from  clawing 
you.  You  won't  like  that  part  of  the  fun  as  much 
as  you  expect  to,  maybe,"  said  Chris,  with  a  sly 
twinkle  of  the  eye,  as  he  glanced  at  Corny  and  then 
away  to  the  vast  forest  that  stretched  far  up  the 
mighty  mountain's  side. 

"  No,  I  don't  want  any  help,  and  Buff  will  betray 
me  by  barking ;  I  prefer  to  go  alone.  I  shall  take 
some  lunch  and  plenty  of  shot,  and  have  a  glorious 
time,  even  if  I  don't  meet  that  confounded  beast.  I 
will  keep  dashing  in  and  out  of  the  woods  as  we 
go  ;  then  no  one  will  miss  me  for  a  while,  and  when 
they  do  you  just  say,  '  Oh,  he 's  all  right ;  he  '11 
be  along  directly,'  and  go  ahead,  and  let  me 
alone." 

Corny  spoke  so  confidently,  and  looked  so  pleased 
with  his  plan,  that  honest  Chris  could  not  bear  to 
tell  him  how  much  danger  he  would  run  in  that 
pathless  forest,  where  older  hunters  than  he  had  been 
lost. 

"  Don't  feel  as  if  I  cared  to  tell  any  lies  about  it, 
and  I  don't  advise  your  goin' ;  but  if  you  're  mad  for 
catamounts,  I  s'pose  I  must  humor  you  and  say  noth- 
ing. Only  bear  in  mind,  Abner  and  I  will  be  along, 
and  if  you  get  into  a  scrape  jest  give  a  yell  and  we  '11 
come." 


212  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

"  No  fear  of  that ;  I  've  tramped  round  all  summer, 
and  know  my  way  like  an  Indian.  Keep  the  girls 
quiet,  and  let  me  have  a  good  lark.  I  '11  turn  up  all 
right  by  sundown;  so  don't  worry.  Not  a  word  to 
mother,  mind,  or  she  won't  let  me  go.  I'll  make 
things  straight  with  her  after  the  fun  is  over." 

"  That  ain't  just  square  ;  but  it's  not  my  funeral,  so 
I  won't  meddle.  Hope  you  '11  have  first  rate  sport, 
and  bag  a  brace  of  cats.  One  thing  you  mind,  don't 
get  too  nigh  before  you  fire ;  and  keep  out  of  sight  of 
the  critters  as  much  as  you  can." 

Chris  spoke  in  a  deep  whisper,  looking  so  excited 
and  impressed  by  the  reckless  courage  of  his  mate 
that  Corny  felt  himself  a  Leatherstocking,  and  went 
off  to  tea  with  his  finger  on  his  lips,  full  of  boyish 
faith  in  his  own  powers.  If  he  had  seen  Chris  dart 
behind  the  barn,  and  there  roll  upon  the  grass  in 
convulsions  of  laughter,  he  would  have  been  both 
surprised  and  hurt. 

No  deacon  could  have  been  more  sober,  however, 
than  Chris  when  they  met  next  morning,  while  the 
party  of  summer  boarders  at  the  old  farm-house  were 
in  a  pleasant  bustle  of  preparation  for  the  long  ex- 
pected day  on  the  mountain.  Three  merry  girls,  a 
pair  of  small  boys,  two  amiable  mammas,  Chris  and 
Corny,  made  up  the  party,  with  Abner  to  drive  the  big 
wagon  drawn  by  Milk  and  Molasses,  the  yellow  span. 

"All  aboard!"  shouted  our  young  Nimrod,  in  a 
hurry  to  be  off,  as  the  lunch-basket  was  handed  up, 
and  the  small  boys  packed  in  the  most  uncomfortable 
corners,  regardless  of  their  arms  and  legs. 


CORNY' S   CATAMOUNT.  213 

Away  they  rattled  with  a  parting  cheer,  and  peace 
fell  upon  the  farm-house  for  a  few  hours,  to  the  great 
contentment  of  the  good  people  left  behind.  Corny's 
mother  was  one  of  them,  and  her  last  words  were,  — 
"  A  pleasant  day,  dear.  I  wish  you  'd  leave  that  gun 
at  home  ;  I'mso  afraid  you  '11  get  hurt  with  it.' 

"  No  fun  without  it.  Don't  worry,  mammy ;  I  *m 
old  enough  to  take  care  of  myself." 

"  I  '11  see  to  him,  ma'am,"  called  Chris,  as  he  hung 
on  behind,  and  waved  his  old  straw  hat,  with  a  steady, 
reliable  sort  of  look,  that  made  the  anxious  lady  feel 
more  comfortable. 

"  We  are  going  to  walk  up,  and  leave  the  horses  to 
rest ;  so  I  can  choose  my  time.  See,  I  've  got  a  bottle 
of  cold  tea  in  this  pocket,  and  a  lot  of  grub  in  the 
other.  No  danger  of  my  starving,  is  there  ? "  whis- 
pered Corny,  as  he  leaned  over  to  Chris,  who  sat, 
apparently,  on  nothing,  with  his  long  legs  dangling 
into  space. 

"  Should  n't  wonder  if  you  needed  every  mite  of  it. 
Hunting  is  mighty  hard  work  on  a  hot  day,  and  this 
is  going  to  be  a  blazer,"  answered  Chris,  pulling  his 
big  straw  hat  lower  over  his  eyes. 

As  we  intend  to  follow  Corny's  adventures,  we  need 
not  pause  to  describe  the  drive,  which  was  a  merry 
one ;  with  girls  chattering,  mammas  holding  on  to  ex- 
cited small  boys,  in  danger  of  flying  out  at  every  jolt, 
Abner  joking  till  every  one  roared,  Corny's  dangerous 
evolutions  with  the  beloved  gun,  and  the  gymnastic 
feats  Chris  performed,  jumping  off  to  pick  flowers 
for  the  ladies,  and  getting  on  again  while  Milk  and 


214  SPINXING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Molasses  tore  up  and  down  the  rough  road  as  if  they 
enjoyed  it. 

About  ten  o'clock  they  reached  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  ;  and  after  a  short  rest  at  the  hotel,  began 
the  three-mile  ascent  in  high  spirits.  Abner  was  to 
follow  later  with  the  wagon,  to  bring  the  party  down ; 
so  Chris  was  guide,  as  he  knew  the  way  well,  and  often 
came  with  people.  The  girls  and  younger  boys  hurried 
on,  full  of  eagerness  to  reach  the  top.  The  ladies 
went  more  slowly,  enjoying  the  grand  beauty  of  the 
scene,  while  Chris  carried  the  lunch-basket,  and  Corny 
lingered  in  the  rear,  waiting  for  a  good  chance  to 
"  plunge." 

He  wanted  to  be  off  before  Abner  came,  as  he  well 
knew  that  wise  man  and  mighty  hunter  would  never 
let  him  go  alone. 

"  The  very  next  path  I  see,  I  '11  dive  in  and  run ; 
Chris  can't  leave  the  rest  to  follow,  and  if  I  once  get 
a  good  start,  they  won't  catch  me  in  a  hurry,"  thought 
the  boy,  longing  to  be  free  and  alone  in  the  wild  woods 
that  tempted  him  on  either  hand. 

Just  as  he  was  tightening  his  belt  to  be  ready  for 
the  run,  Mrs.  Barker,  the  stout  lady,  called  him ;  and 
being  a  well-bred  lad,  he  hastened  at  once  to  see  what 
she  wanted,  feeling  that  he  was  the  only  gentleman  in 
the  party. 

"Give  me  your  arm,  dear;  I'm  getting  very  tired, 
and  fear  I  can't  hold  out  to  the  top,  without  a  little 
help,"  said  the  poor  lady,  red  and  panting  with  the 
heat,  and  steepness  of  the  road. 

"  Certainly   ma'am,"  answered   Corny,   obeying   at 


CORNY' S   CATAMOUNT.  215 

once,  and  inwardly  resolving  to  deposit  his  fair  burden 
on  the  first  fallen  log  they  came  to,  and  make  his 
escape. 

But  Mrs.  Barker  got  on  bravely,  with  the  support 
of  his  strong  arm,  and  chatted  away  so  delightfully 
that  Corny  would  really  have  enjoyed  the  walk,  if  his 
soul  had  not  been  yearning  for  catamounts.  He  did 
his  best,  but  when  they  passed  opening  after  opening 
into  the  green  recesses  of  the  wood,  and  the  granite 
boulders  grew  more  and  more  plentiful,  his  patience 
gave  out,  and  he  began  to  plan  what  he  could  say  to 
excuse  himself.  Chris  was  behind,  apparently  deaf 
and  blind  to  his  calls  and  imploring  glances,  though 
he  grinned  cheerfully  when  poor  Corny  looked  round 
and  beckoned,  as  well  as  he  could,  with  a  gun  on  one 
arm  and  a  stout  lady  on  the  other. 

"  The  hardest  part  is  coming  now,  and  we  'd  better 
rest  a  moment.  Here  's  a  nice  rock,  and  the  last 
spring  we  are  likely  to  see  till  we  get  to  the  top. 
Come  on,  Chris,  and  give  us  the  dipper.  Mrs.  Barker 
wants  a  drink,  and  so  do  I,"  called  the  young  hunter, 
driven  to  despair  at  last. 

Up  came  Chris,  and  while  he  rummaged  in  the  well- 
packed  basket,  Corny  slipped  into  the  wood,  leaving 
the  good  lady  with  her  thanks  half  spoken,  sitting  on 
a  warm  stone  beside  a  muddy  little  pool.  A  loud 
laugh  followed  him,  as  he  scrambled  through  the  tall 
ferns  and  went  plunging  down  the  steep  mountain 
side,  eager  to  reach  the  lower  woods. 

"  Let  him  laugh  ;  it  will  be  my  turn  when  I  go  home, 
with  a  fine  cat  over  my  shoulder,"  thought  Corny, 


216  SPINNING- WHEEL   STORIES. 

tearing  along,  heedless  of  falls,  scratches,  and  bruised 
knees. 

At  length  he  paused  for  breath,  and  looked  about 
him  well  satisfied,  for  the  spot  was  lonely  and  lovely 
enough  to  suit  any  hunter.  The  tallest  pines  he  ever 
saw  sighed  far  overhead ;  the  ground  was  ankle  deep 
in  moss,  and  gay  with  scarlet  bunch-berries;  every 
fallen  log  was  veiled  by  swTeet-scented  Linnea,  green 
vines  or  nodding  brakes;  while  hidden  brooks  sang 
musically,  and  the  air  was  full  of  the  soft  flutter  of 
leaves,  the  whir  of  wings,  the  sound  of  birds  gossiping 
sweetly  in  the  safe  shelter  of  the  forest,  where  human 
feet  so  seldom  came. 

"  I  '11  rest  a  bit,  and  then  go  along  down,  keeping 
a  look  out  for  puss  by  the  way,"  thought  Corny,  feel- 
ing safe  and  free,  and  very  happy,  for  he  had  his  own 
way,  at  last,  and  a  whole  day  to  lead  the  life  he  loved. 

So  he  bathed  his  hot  face,  took  a  cool  drink,  and 
lay  on  the  moss,  staring  up  into  the  green  gloom  of 
the  pines,  blissfully  dreaming  of  the  joys  of  a  hunter's 
life,  —  till  a  peculiar  cry  startled  him  to  his  feet,  and 
sent  him  creeping  warily  toward  the  sound.  "Whether 
it  was  a  new  kind  of  bird,  or  a  fox,  or  a  bear,  he  did  not 
know,  but  fondly  hoped  it  was  a  wildcat ;  though  he 
was  well  aware  that  the  latter  creature  sleeps  by  day, 
and  prowls  by  night.  Abner  said  they  purred  and 
snarled  and  gave  a  mewing  sort  of  cry ;  but  which  it 
was  now  he  could  not  tell,  having  unfortunately  been 
half  asleep. 

On  he  went,  looking  up  into  the  trees  for  a  furry 
bunch,  behind   every  log,  and   in  every   rocky  hole, 


CORNY' S   CATAMOUNT.  217 

longing  and  hoping  to  discover  his  heart's  desire.  But 
a  hawk  was  all  he  saw  above,  an  ugly  snake  was  tne 
only  living  fehing  he  found  among  the  logs,  and  a  fat 
woodchuck's  hind  legs  vanished  down  the  most  attrac- 
tive hole.  He  shot  at  all  three  and  missed  them,  so 
pushed  on,  pretending  that  he  did  not  care  for  such 
small  game. 

"  Now  this  is  what  I  call  fun,"  he  said  to  himself, 
tramping  gayly  along,  and  at  that  moment  went  splash 
into  a  mud-hole  concealed  under  the  grass.  He  sunk 
up  to  his  knees,  and  with  great  difficulty  got  out  by 
clinging  to  the  tussocks  that  grew  near.  In  his  strug- 
gles the  lunch  was  lost,  for  the  bottle  broke  and  the 
pocket  where  the  sandwiches  were  stored  was  full  of 
mud.  A  woful  spectacle  was  the  trim  lad  as  he 
emerged  from  the  slough,  black  and  dripping  in  front, 
well  spattered  behind,  hatless,  and  one  shoe  gone,  hav- 
ing been  carelessly  left  unlaced  in  the  ardor  of  the 
chase. 

"  Here  's  a  mess  !  "  thought  poor  Corny,  surveying 
himself  with  great  disgust  and  feeling  very  helpless,  as 
well  as  tired,  hungry,  and  mad.  "  Luckily,  my  powder 
is  dry  and  my  gun  safe  ;  so  my  fun  is  n't  spoiled,  though 
I  do  look  like  a  wallowing  pig.  I  've  heard  of  mud 
baths,  but  I  never  took  one  before,  and  I  '11  be  shot  if 
I  do  again." 

So  he  washed  as  well  as  he  could,  hoping  the  sun 
would  dry  him,  picked  out  a  few  bits  of  bread  unspoiled 
by  the  general  wTreck,  and  trudged  on  with  less  ardor, 
though  by  no  means  discouraged  yet. 

''I'm  too  high  for  any  game  but  birds,  and  those  I 


218  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

dont  want.  I  '11  go  slap  down,  and  come  out  in  the 
valley.  Abner  said  any  brook  would  show  the  way, 
and  this  rascal  that  led  me  into  a  scrape  shall  lead  me 
out,"  he  said,  as  he  followed  the  little  stream  that 
went  tumbling  over  the  stones,  that  increased  as  the 
ground  sloped  toward  the  deep  ravine,  where  a  water- 
fall shone  like  silver  in  the  sun. 

"  I  '11  take  a  bath  if  the  pool  is  big  enough,  and 
that  will  set  me  up.  Should  n't  wonder  if  I  'd  got 
poisoned  a  bit  with  some  of  these  vines  I  've  been  tear- 
ing through.  My  hands  smart  like  fury,  and  I  guess 
the  mosquitoes  have  about  eaten  my  face  up.  Never 
saw  such  clouds  of  stingers  before,"  said  Corny,  looking 
at  his  scratched  hands,  and  rubbing  his  hot  face  in 
great  discomfort,  —  for  it  was  the  gnat  that  drove  the 
lion  mad,  you  remember. 

It  was  easy  to  say,  "111  follow  the  brook,"  but  not 
so  easy  to  do  it ;  for  the  frolicsome  stream  went  head- 
long over  rocks,  crept  under  fallen  logs,  and  now  and 
then  hid  itself  so  cleverly  that  one  had  to  look  and 
listen  carefully  to  recover  the  trail.  It  was  long  past 
noon  when  Corny  came  out  near  the  waterfall,  so  tired 
and  hungry  that  he  heartily  wished  himself  back 
among  the  party,  who  had  lunched  well  and  were  now 
probably  driving  gayly  homeward  to  a  good  supper. 

No  chance  for  a  bath  appeared,  so  he  washed  his 
burning  face  and  took  a  rest,  enjoying  the  splendid 
view  far  over  valley  and  intervale  through  the  gap  in  the 
mountain  range.  He  was  desperately  tired  with  these 
hours  of  rough  travel,  and  very  hungry ;  but  would  not 
own  it,  and  sat  considering  what  to  do  next,  for  he  saw 


CORNY'S   CATAMOUNT.  219 

by  the  sun  that  the  afternoon  was  half  over.  There 
was  time  to  go  back  the  way  he  had  come,  and  by  fol- 
lowing the  path  down  the  hill  he  could  reach  the  hotel 
and  get  supper  and  a  bed,  or  be  driven  home.  That 
was  the  wise  thing  to  do,  but  his  pride  rebelled  against 
returning  empty-handed  after  all  his  plans  and  boasts 
of  great  exploits. 

"  I  won't  go  home,  to  be  laughed  at  by  Chris  and 
Abner.  I  '11  shoot  something,  if  I  stay  all  night.  Who 
cares  for  hunger  and  mosquito  bites  1  Not  I.  Hun- 
ters can  bear  more  than  that,  I  guess.  The  next  live 
thing  I  see  I  '11  shoot  it,  and  make  a  fire  and  have  a 
jolly  supper.  Now  which  way  will  I  go, —  up  or  down  1 
A  pretty  hard  prospect,  either  way." 

The  sight  of  an  eagle  soaring  above  him  seemed  to 
answer  his  question,  and  fill  him  with  new  strength 
and  ardor.  To  shoot  the  king  of  birds  and  take  him 
home  in  triumph  would  cover  the  hunter  with  glory. 
It  should  be  done  !  And  away  he  went,  climbing, 
tumbling,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  toward  the  place 
where  the  eagle  had  alighted.  More  cuts  and  bruises, 
more  vain  shots,  and  all  the  reward  of  his  eager  strug- 
gles was  a  single  feather  that  floated  down  as  the  great 
bird  soared  serenely  away,  leaving  the  boy  exhausted 
and  disappointed  in  a  wilderness  of  granite  boulders, 
with  no  sign  of  a  path  to  show  the  way  out. 

As  he  leaned  breathless  and  weary  against  the  crag 
where  he  had  fondly  hoped  to  find  the  eagle's  nest,  he 
realized  for  the  first  time  what  a  fool- hardy  thing  he 
had  done.  Here  he  was,  alone,  without  a  guide,  in  this 
wild  region  where  there  was  neither  food  nor  shelter, 


220  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

and  night  coming  on.  Utterly  used  up,  he  could  not 
get  home  now  if  he  had  known  the  way ;  and  suddenly 
all  the  tales  he  had  ever  heard  of  men  lost  in  the 
mountains  came  into  his  head.  If  he  had  not  been 
weak  with  hunger  he  would  have  felt  better  able  to 
bear  it;  but  his  legs  trembled  under  him,  his  head 
ached  with  the  glare  of  the  sun,  and  a  queer  faintness 
came  over  him  now  and  then  ;  for  the  city  lad  was 
unused  to  such  violent  exercise,  plucky  as  he  was. 

"  The  only  thing  to  do  now  is  to  get  down  to  the 
valley,  if  I  can,  before  dark.  Abner  said  there  was  an 
old  cabin,  where  the  hunters  used  to  sleep,  somewhere 
round  that  way.  I  can  try  for  it,  and  perhaps  shoot 
something  on  the  way.  May  break  my  bones,  but  I 
can't  sit  and  starve  up  here,  and  I  was  a  fool  to  come. 
I'll  keep  the  feather  anyway,  to  prove  that  I  really 
saw  an  eagle ;  that 's  better  than  nothing." 

Still  bravely  trying  to  affect  the  indifference  to  dan- 
ger and  fatigue  which  hunters  are  always  described  as 
possessing  in  such  a  remarkable  degree,  Corny  slung 
the  useless  gun  on  his  back  and  began  the  steep  descent, 
discovering  now  the  perils  he  had  been  too  eager  to 
see  before.  He  was  a  good  climber,  but  was  stiff  with 
weariness,  and  his  hands  already  sore  with  scratches 
and  poison ;  so  he  went  slowly,  feeling  quite  unfit  for 
such  hard  work.  Coming  to  the  ravine,  he  found  the 
only  road  was  down  its  precipitous  side  to  the  valley, 
that  looked  so  safe  and  pleasant  now.  Stunted  pines 
grew  in  the  fissures  of  the  rocks,  and  their  strong  roots 
helped  the  clinging  hands  and  feet  as  the  boy  painfully 
climbed,    slipped,    and    swung    along,    fearing   every 


CORNY'S   CATAMOUNT.  221 

minute  to  come  to  some  impassable  barrier  in  the 
dangerous  path. 

But  he  got  on  wonderfully  well,  and  was  feeling 
much  encouraged,  when  his  foot  slipped,  the  root  he 
held  gave  way,  and  down  he  went,  rolling  and  bumping 
to  his  death  on  the  rocks  below,  he  thought,  as  a  crash 
came,  and  he  knew  no  more. 

"Wonder  if  I  'm  dead?"  was  the  first  idea  that  oc- 
curred to  him  as  he  opened  his  eyes  and  saw  a  brilliant 
sky  above  him,  all  purple,  gold,  and  red. 

He  seemed  floating  in  the  air,  for  he  swayed  to  and 
fro  on  a  soft  bed,  a  pleasant  murmur  reached  his  ear, 
and  when  he  looked  down  he  saw  what  looked  like 
clouds,  misty  and  white,  below  him.  He  lay  a  few 
minutes  drowsily  musing,  for  the  fall  had  stunned 
him ;  then,  as  he  moved  his  hand  something  pricked 
it,  and  he  felt  pine-needles  in  the  fingers  that  closed 
over  them. 

"  Caught  in  a  tree,  by  Jupiter !  "  and  all  visions  of 
heaven  vanished  in  a  breath,  as  he  sat  up  and  stared 
about  him,  wide  awake  now,  and  conscious  of  many 
aching  bones. 

Yes,  there  he  lay  among  the  branches  of  one  of  the 
sturdy  pines,  into  which  he  had  fallen  on  his  way 
down  the  precipice.  Blessed  little  tree  !  set  there  to 
save  a  life,  and  teach  a  lesson  to  a  wilful  young  heart 
that  never  forgot  that  hour. 

Holding  fast,  lest  a  rash  motion  should  set  him 
bounding  further  down,  like  a  living  ball,  Corny  took 
an  observation  as  rapidly  as  possible,  for  the  red  light 
was  fading,  and  the  mist  rising  from  the  valley.     All 


222  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

he  could  see  was  a  narrow  ledge  where  the  tree  stood, 
and  anxious  to  reach  a  safer  bed  for  the  night,  he 
climbed  cautiously  down  to  drop  on  the  rock,  so  full 
of  gratitude  for  safety  that  he  could  only  lie  quite 
still  for  a  little  while,  thinking  of  mother,  and  trying 
not  to  cry. 

He  was  much  shaken  by  the  fall,  his  flesh  bruised, 
his  clothes  torn,  and  his  spirit  cowed;  for  hunger, 
weariness,  pain,  and  danger,  showed  him  what  a  very 
feeble  creature  he  was,  after  all.  He  could  do  no 
more  till  morning,  and  resigned  himself  to  a  night  on 
the  mountain  side,  glad  to  be  there  alive,  though 
doubtful  what  daylight  would  show  him.  Too  tired 
to  move,  he  lay  watching  the  western  sky,  where  the 
sun  set  gloriously  behind  the  purple  hills.  All  below 
was  wrapped  in  mist,  and  not  a  sound  reached  him 
but  the  sigh  of  the  pine,  and  the  murmur  of  the  water- 
fall. 

"This  is  a  first-class  scrape.  What  a  fool  I  was 
not  to  go  back  when  I  could,  instead  of  blundering 
down  here  where  no  one  can  get  at  me,  and  as  like  as 
not  I  can't  get  out  alone!  Gun  smashed  in  that  con- 
founded fall,  so  I  can't  even  fire  a  shot  to  call  help. 
Nothing  to  eat  or  drink,  and  very  likely  a  day  or  so 
to  spend  here  till  I  'm  found,  if  I  ever  am.  Chris  said, 
'Yell,  if  you  want  us.'  Much  good  that  would  do 
now!  I'll  try,  though."  And  getting  up  on  his 
weary  legs,  Corny  shouted  till  he  was  hoarse ;  but 
echo  alone  answered  him,  and  after  a  few  efforts 
he  gave  it  up,  trying  to  accept  the  situation  like  a 
man.     As  if  kind  Nature  took  pity  on  the  poor  boy, 


CORNY'S   CATAMOUNT.  223 

the  little  ledge  was  soft  with  lichens  and  thin  grass, 
and  here  and  there  grew  a  sprig  of  checkerberry,  sown 
by  the  wind,  sheltered  by  the  tree,  and  nourished  by 
the  moisture  that  trickled  down  the  rock  from  some 
hidden  spring.  Eagerly  Corny  ate  the  sweet  leaves 
to  stay  the  pangs  of  hunger  that  gnawed  him,  and 
finished  his  meal  with  grass  and  pine-needles,  calling 
himself  a  calf,  and  wishing  his  pasture  were  wider. 

"  The  fellows  we  read  about  always  come  to  grief  in 
a  place  where  they  can  shoot  a  bird,  catch  a  fish,  or 
knock  over  some  handy  beast  for  supper,"  he  said, 
talking  to  himself  for  company.  "  Even  the  old  chap 
lost  in  the  bush  in  Australia  had  a  savage  with  him 
who  dug  a  hole  in  a  tree,  and  pulled  out  a  nice  fat 
worm  to  eat.  I  'm  not  lucky  enough  even  to  find  a 
sassafras  bush  to  chew,  or  a  bird's  egg  to  suck.  My 
poor  gun  is  broken,  or  I  might  bang  away  at  a  hawk, 
and  cook  him  for  supper,  if  the  bog  did  n't  spoil  my 
matches  as  it  did  my  lunch.  Oh,  wrell !  I  '11  pull 
through,  I  guess,  and  when  it 's  all  over,  it  will  be  a 
jolly  good  story  to  tell." 

Then,  hoping  to  forget  his  woes  in  sleep,  he  nestled 
under  the  low-growing  branches  of  the  pine,  and  lay 
blinking  drowsily  at  the  twilight  world  outside.  A 
dream  came,  and  he  saw  the  old  farm-house  in  sad 
confusion,  caused  by  his  absence,  —  the  women  crying, 
the  men  sober,  all  anxious,  and  all  making  ready  to 
come  and  look  for  him.  So  vivid  was  it  that  he  woke 
himself  by  crying  out,  "  Here  I  am  !  "  and  nearly  went 
over  the  ledge,  stretching  out  his  arms  to  Abner. 

The  start  and  the  scare  made  it  hard  to  go  to  sleep 


224  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

again,  and  he  sat  looking  at  the  solemn  sky,  full  of 
stars  that  seemed  watching  over  him  alone  there,  like 
a  poor,  lost  child  on  the  great  mountain's  stony  breast. 
He  had  never  seen  the  world  at  that  hour  before,  and  it 
made  a  deep  impression,  on  him ;  for  it  was  a  vast,  wild 
scene,  full  of  gloomy  shadows  below,  unknown  dangers 
around,  and  a  new  sense  of  utter  littleness  and  help- 
lessness, which  taught  the  boy  human  dependence  upon 
Heavenly  love  as  no  words,  even  from  his  mother's  ten- 
der lips,  could  have  done.  Thoughts  of  the  suffering 
his  wilfulness  had  given  her  wrung  a  few  penitent  tears 
from  him,  which  he  was  not  ashamed  to  shed,  since 
only  the  kind  stars  saw  them,  and  better  still,  he  re- 
solved to  own  the  fault,  to  atone  for  it,  and  to  learn 
wisdom  from  this  lesson,  which  might  yet  prove  to 
be  a  very  bitter  one. 

He  felt  better  after  this  little  breakdown,  and  pres- 
ently his  thoughts  were  turned  from  conscience  to  cat- 
amounts again  ;  for  sounds  in  the  woods  below  led  him 
to  believe  that  the  much-desired  animal  was  on  the 
prowl.  His  excited  fancy  painted  dozens  of  them  not 
far  away,  waiting  to  be  shot,  and  there  he  was,  cooped 
up  on  that  narrow  ledge,  with  a  broken  gun,  unable 
even  to  get  a  look  at  them.  He  felt  that  it  was  a  just 
punishment,  and  after  the  first  regret  tried  to  comfort 
himself  with  the  fact  that  he  was  much  safer  where  he 
was  than  alone  in  the  forest  at  that  hour,  for  various 
nocturnal  voices  suggested  restless  and  dangerous 
neighbors. 

Presently  his  wakeful  e}7es  saw  lights  twinkling  far 
off  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine,  and  he  imagined 


CORNY' S   CATAMOUNT.  225 

he  heard  shouts  and  shots.  But  the  splash  of  the  wat- 
erfall, and  the  rush  of  the  night  wind  deadened  the 
sounds  to  his  ear,  and  drowned  his  own  reply. 

"  They  are  looking  for  me,  and  will  never  think  of 
this  strange  place.  I  can't  make  them  hear,  and  must 
wait  till  morning.  Poor  Chris  will  get  an  awful  scold- 
ing for  letting  me  go.  Don't  believe  he  told  a  word 
till  he  had  to.  I  '11  make  it  up  to  him.  Chris  is  a 
capital  fellow,  and  I  just  wish  I  had  him  here  to  make 
things  jolly,"  thought  the  lonely  lad. 

But  soon  the  lights  vanished,  the  sounds  died  away, 
and  the  silence  of  midnight  brooded  over  the  hills, 
seldom  broken  except  by  the  soft  cry  of  an  owl,  the 
rustle  of  the  pine,  or  a  louder  gust  of  wind  as  it  grew 
strong  and  cold.  Corny  kept  awake  as  long  as  he 
could,  fearing  to  dream  and  fall ;  but  by-and-by  he 
dropped  off,  and  slept  soundly  till  the  chill  of  dawn 
waked   him. 

At  any  other  time  he  would  have  heartily  enjoyed 
the  splendor  of  the  eastern  sky,  as  the  red  glow  spread 
and  brightened,  till  the  sun  came  dazzling  through  the 
gorge,  making  the  wild  solitude  beautiful  and  grand. 

Now,  however,  he  would  have  given  it  all  for  a  hot 
beefsteak  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  as  he  wet  his  lips  with  a 
few  drops  of  ice-cold  water,  and  browsed  over  his  small 
pasture  till  not  a  green  spire  remained.  He  was  stiff, 
and  full  of  pain,  but  daylight  and  the  hope  of  escape 
cheered  him  up,  and  gave  him  coolness  and  courage  to 
see  how  best  he  could  accomplish  his  end. 

The  wind  soon  blew  away  the  mist  and  let  him  see 
that  the  dry  bed  of  a  stream  lay  just  below.  To  reach 
15 


226  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

it  he  must  leap,  at  risk  of  his  bones,  or  find  some  means 
to  swing  down  ten  or  twelve  feet.  Once  there,  it  was 
pretty  certain  that  by  following  the  rough  road  he 
would  come  into  the  valley,  from  whence  he  could 
easily  find  his  way  home.  Much  elated  at  this  unex- 
pected good  fortune,  he  took  the  strap  that  had  slung 
his  gun,  the  leathern  belt  about  his  waist,  and  the 
strong  cords  of  his  pouch,  and  knotting  them  together, 
made  a  rope  long  enough  to  let  him  drop  within  two 
or  three  feet  of  the  stones  below.  This  he  fastened 
firmly  round  the  trunk  of  the  pine,  and  finished  his 
preparations  by  tying  his  handkerchief  to  one  of  the 
branches,  that  it  might  serve  as  a  guide  for  him,  a 
signal  for  others,  and  a  trophy  of  his  grand  fall. 

Then  putting  a  little  sprig  of  the  evergreen  tree  in 
his  jacket,  writh  a  grateful  thought  of  all  it  had  done 
for  him,  he  swung  himself  off  and  landed  safely  below, 
not  minding  a  few  extra  bumps  after  his  late  exploits 
at  tumbling. 

Feeling  like  a  prisoner  set  free,  he  hurried  as  fast  as 
bare  feet  and  stiff  legs  would  carry  him  along  the  bed 
of  the  stream,  coming  at  last  into  the  welcome  shelter  of 
the  woods,  which  seemed  more  beautiful  than  ever,  after 
the  bleak  region  of  granite  in  which  he  had  been  all  night. 

Anxious  to  report  himself  alive,  and  relieve  his 
mother's  anxiety,  he  pressed  on  till  he  struck  the  path, 
and  soon  saw,  not  far  away,  the  old  cabin  Abner  had 
spoken  of.  Just  before  this  happy  moment  he  had 
heard  a  shot  fired  somewhere  in  the  forest,  and  as  he 
hurried  toward  the  sound  he  sawr  an  animal  dart  into 
the  hut,  as  if  for  shelter. 


CORNY'S   CATAMOUNT.  227 

Whether  it  was  a  rabbit,  woodchuck  or  dog,  he  had 
not  seen,  as  a  turn  in  the  path  prevented  a  clear  view ; 
and  hoping  it  was  old  Buff  looking  for  him,  he  ran  in, 
to  find  himself  face  to  face  with  a  catamount  at 
last. 

There  she  was,  the  big,  fierce  cat,  crouched  in  a  cor- 
ner, with  fiery  eyes,  growling  and  spitting  at  sight  of 
an  enemy,  but  too  badly  wounded  to  fight,  as  the  blood 
that  dripped  from  her  neck,  and  the  tremble  of  her 
limbs  plainly  showed. 

"  Now 's  my  chance  !  Don't  care  who  shot  her, 
I  '11  kill  her,  and  have  her  too,  if  I  pay  my  last 
dollar,"  thought  Corny ;  and  catching  up  a  stout  bit 
of  timber  fallen  from  the  old  roof,  he  struck  one  quick 
blow,  which  finished  poor  puss,  who  gave  up  the  ghost 
with  a  savage  snarl,  and  a  vain  effort  to  pounce  on 
him. 

This  splendid  piece  of  good  luck  atoned  for  all  the 
boy  had  gone  through,  and  only  waiting  to  be  sure 
the  beast  was  quite  dead  and  past  clawing,  he  flung 
his  prize  over  his  shoulder,  and  with  renewed  strength 
and  spirit  trudged  along  the  woodland  road  toward 
home,  proudly  imagining  his  triumphal  entry  upon 
the  scene  of  suspense  and  alarm. 

"  Wish  I  did  n't  look  so  like  a  scare-crow ;  but 
perhaps  my  rags  will  add  to  the  effect.  Won't  the 
girls  laugh  at  my  swelled  face,  and  scream  at  the 
cat.  Poor  mammy  will  mourn  over  me  and  coddle 
me  up  as  if  I  'd  been  to  the  wars.  Hope  some  house 
isn't  very  far  off",  for  I  don't  believe  I  can  lug  this 
brute  much  farther,  I  'm  so  starved  and  shaky." 


228  SPINNIXG-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Just  as  he  paused  to  take  breath  and  shift  his 
burden  from  one  shoulder  to  the  other,  a  loud  shout 
startled  him,  and  a  moment  after,  several  men  came 
bursting  through  the  wood,  cheering  like  lunatics  as 
they  approached. 

It  was  Abner,  Chris,  and  some  of  the  neighbors, 
setting  out  again  on  their  search,  after  a  night  of  vain 
wandering.  Corny  could  have  hugged  them  all  and 
cried  like  a  girl ;  but  pride  kept  him  steady,  though 
his  face  showed  his  joy  as  he  nodded  his  hatless  head 
with  a  cool  — 
"  Hullo!" 

Chris  burst  into  his  ringing  laugh,  and  danced  a 
wild  sort  of  jig  round  his  mate,  as  the  only  way  in 
which  he  could  fitly  express  his  relief;  for  he  had 
been  so  bowed  down  with  remorse  at  his  imprudence 
in  letting  Corny  go  that  no  one  could  find  the  heart 
to  blame  him,  and  all  night  the  poor  lad  had  rushed 
up  and  down  seeking,  calling,  hoping,  and  fearing,  till 
he  was  about  used  up,  and  looked  nearly  as  dilapi- 
dated as  Corny. 

The  tale  was  soon  told,  and  received  with  the  most 
flattering  signs  of  interest,  wonder,  sympathy,  and 
admiration. 

"  Why  in  thunder  did  n't  you  tell  me ?  —  and  I'd  a 
got  up  a  hunt  wuth  havin',  —  not  go  stramashing  off 
alone  on  a  wild  goose  chase  like  this.  Never  did  see 
such  a  chap  as  you  be  for  gittin'  inter  scrapes,  —  and 
out  of  'em  too,  I  'm  bound  to  own,"  growled  Abner. 

"  That  is  n't  a  wild  goose,  is  it  ?  "  proudly  de- 
manded Corny,  pointing  to  the  cat,  which  now  lay  on 


CORNY'S  CATAMOUNT.  229 

the  ground,  while  he  leaned  against  a  tree  to  hide  his 
weariness;  for  he  felt  ready  to  drop,  now  all  the 
excitement  was  over. 

"  No  it  ain't,  and  I  congratulate  you  on  a  good  job. 
Where  did  you  shoot  her?"  asked  Abner,  stooping  to 
examine  the  creature. 

"  Did  n't  shoot  her ;  broke  my  gun  when  I  took 
that  header  down  the  mountain.  I  hit  her  a  rap  with 
a  club,  in  the  cabin  where  I  found  her,"  answered 
Corny,  heartily  wishing  he  need  not  share  the  prize 
with  any  one.  But  he  was  honest,  and  added  at 
once,  "Some  one  else  had  put  a  bullet  into  her;  I 
only  finished  her  off." 

"  Chris  did  it ;  he  fired  a  spell  back  and  see  the 
critter  run,  but  we  was  too  keen  after  you  to  stop  for 
any  other  game.  Guess  you  've  had  enough  of  cata- 
mounts for  one  spell,  hey  1 "  and  Abner  laughed  as  he 
looked  at  poor  Corny,  who  was  a  more  sorry  spectacle 
than  he  knew,  —  ragged  and  rough,  hatless  and  shoe- 
less, his  face  red  and  swelled  with  the  poisoning  and 
bites,  his  eyes  heavy  with  weariness,  and  in  his 
mouth  a  bit  of  wild-cherry  bark  which  he  chewed 
ravenously. 

"  No,  I  have  n't !  I  want  this  one,  and  will  buy  it 
if  Chris  will  let  me.  I  said  I  'd  kill  one,  and  I  did, 
and  want  to  keep  the  skin  ;  for  I  ought  to  have  some- 
thing to  show  after  all  this  knocking  about  and  turn- 
ing somersaults  half  a  mile  long,"  answered  Corny 
stoutly,  as  he  tried  to  shoulder  his  load  again. 

"  Here,  give  me  the  varmint,  and  you  hang  on  to 
Chris,    my   boy,    or    we'll   have    to    cart   you   home. 


230  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

You  've  done  first-rate,  and  now  you  want  a  good 
meal  of  vittles  to  set  you  up.  Right  about  face, 
neighbors,  and  home  we  go,  to  the  tune  of  Hail 
Columby." 

As  Abner  spoke,  the  procession  set  forth.  The 
tall,  jolly  man,  with  the  dead  animal  at  his  back,  went 
first ;  then  Corny,  trying  not  to  lean  on  the  arm  Chris 
put  round  him,  but  very  glad  of  the  support;  next  the 
good  farmers,  all  talking  at  once ;  while  old  Buft 
soberly  brought  up  the  rear,  with  his  eye  on  the  wild- 
cat, well  knowing  that  he  would  have  a  fine  feast 
when  the  handsome  skin  was  off. 

In  this  order  they  reached  homeland  Corny  tum- 
bled into  his  mother's  arms,  to  be  no  more  seen  for 
some    hours.     What   went   on   in   her  room,  no  one 
knows;  but  when  at  last  the  hero  emerged,  refreshed 
by  sleep   and  food,  clad  in  clean  clothes,  his  wounds 
bound  up,  and  plantain-leaves  dipped  in  cream  spread 
upon  his  afflicted  countenance,  he  received  the  praises 
and  congratulations  showered  upon  him  very  meekly 
He   made  no  more  boasts  of  skill  and  courage   that 
summer,  set  out  on  no  more   wild  hunts,  and  gave  up 
Ins  own  wishes  so  cheerfully  that  it  was  evident  some- 
thing had  worked  a  helpful  change  in  wilful  Corny 

He  liked  to  tell  the  story  of  that  day  and  night 
when  his  friends  were  recounting  adventures  by  sea 
and  land  ;  but  he  never  said  much  about  the  hours  on 
the  ledge,  always  owned  that  Chris  shot  the  beast, 
and  usually  ended  by  sagely  advising  his  hearers  to 
let  their  mothers  know,  when  they  went  off  on  a  lark 
of  that  kind.     Those  who  knew  and  loved  him  best 


CORNY'S   CATAMOUNT.  231 

observed  that  he  was  fonder  than  ever  of  nibbling 
checkerberry  leaves,  that  he  did  n't  mind  being 
laughed  at  for  liking  to  wear  a  bit  of  pine  in  his 
buttonhole,  and  that  the  skin  of  the  catamount  so 
hardly  won  lay  before  his  study  table  till  the  moths 
ate  it  up. 


A  young  girl  in  a  little  cap  and  a  big  apron  sat 
poring  over  a  cook-book,  -with  a  face  full  of  the  deepest 
anxiety.  She  had  the  kitchen  to  herself,  for  mamma 
was  out  for  the  day,  cook  was  off  duty,  and  Edith 
could  mess  to  her  heart's  content.  She  belonged  to 
a  cooking-class,  the  members  of  which  were  to  have 
a  lunch  at  two  p.  m.  with  the  girl  next  door ;  and  now 
the  all  absorbing  question  was,  what  to  make.  Turn- 
ing the  pages  of  the  well-used  book,  she  talked  to 
herself  as  the  various  receipts  met  her  eye. 

u  Lobster-salad  and  chicken-croquettes  I  've  had, 
and  neither  were  very  good.  Now  I  want  to  dis- 
tinguish myself  by  something  very  nice.  I  'd  try  a 
meat-porcupine  or  a  mutton-duck  if  there  was  time; 
but  they  are  fussy,  and  ought  to  be  rehearsed  before 
given  to  the  class.  Bavarian  cream  needs  berries 
and  whipped  cream,  and  I  xoonH  tire  my  arms  beating 
eggs.  Apricots  a  la  Neige  is  an  easy  thing  and  whole- 
some, but  the  girls  won't  like  it,  I  know,  as  well  as 
some  rich  thing  that  will  make  them  ill,  as  Carrie's 
plum-pudding   did.     A   little   meat   dish   is   best  for 


234  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

lunch.  I  'd  try  sweetbreads  and  bacon,  if  I  did  n't 
hate  to  burn  my  face  and  scent  my  clothes,  frying. 
Birds  are  elegant ;  let  me  see  if  I  can  do  larded 
grouse.  No,  I  don't  like  to  touch  that  cold,  fat  stuff. 
How  mortified  Ella  was,  when  she  had  birds  on  toast 
and  forgot  to  draw  them.  I  should  n't  make  such  a 
blunder  as  that,  I  do  hope.  Potted  pigeons — the 
very  thing  !  Had  that  in  our  last  lesson,  but  the 
girls  are  all  crazy  about  puff-paste,  so  they  won't  try 
pigeons.  Why  did  n't  I  think  of  it  at  once  1  —  for  we  've 
got  them  in  the  house,  and  don't  want  them  to-day, 
mamma  being  called  away.  All  ready  too ;  so  nice ! 
I  do  detest  to  pick  and  clean  birds.  '  Simmer  from 
one  to  three  hours.'  Plenty  of  time.  I  '11  do  it ! 
I  '11  do  it !     La,  la,  la !  " 

And  away  skipped  Edith  in  high  spirits,  for  she  did 
not  love  to  cook,  yet  wished  to  stand  well  with  the 
class,  some  members  of  which  were  very  ambitious, 
and  now  and  then  succeeded  with  an  elaborate  dish, 
more  by  good  luck  than  skill. 

Six  plump  birds  were  laid  out  on  a  platter,  with 
their  legs  folded  in  the  most  pathetic  manner ;  these 
Edith  bore  away  in  triumph  to  the  kitchen,  and  open- 
ing the  book  before  her  went  to  work  energetically, 
resigning  herself  to  frying  the  pork  and  cutting  up 
the  onion,  which  she  had  overlooked  when  hastily 
reading  the  receipt.  In  time  they  were  stuffed,  the 
legs  tied  down  to  the  tails,  the  birds  browned  in  the 
stew-pan,  and  put  to  simmer  with  a  pinch  of  herbs. 

"Now  I  can  clear  up,  and  rest  a  bit.  If  I  ever 
have   to   work   for  a  living  I  wont  be  a  cook,"  said 


THE   COOKING-CLASS.  235 

Edith,  with  a  sigh  of  weariness  as  she  washed  her 
dishes,  wondering  how  there  could  be  so  many;  for 
no  careless  Irish  girl  would  have  made  a  greater 
clutter  over  this  small  job  than  the  young  lady  who 
had  not  yet  learned  one  of  the  most  important  things 
that  a  cook  should  know. 

The  bell  rang  just  as  she  got  done,  and  was  plan- 
ning to  lie  and  rest  on  the  dining-room  sofa  till  it  was 
time  to  take  up  her  pigeons. 

"  Tell  whoever  it  is  that  I  'm  engaged,"  she  whis- 
pered, as  the  maid  passed,  on  her  way  to  the  door. 

"  It 's  your  cousin,  miss,  from  the  country,  and  she 
has  a  trunk  with  her.  Of  course  she 's  to  come  in  1 n 
asked  Maria,  coming  back  in  a  moment. 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  I  forgot  all  about  Patty.  Mamma 
said  any  day  this  week,  and  this  is  the  most  incon- 
venient one  of  the  seven.  Of  course,  she  must  come 
in.  Go  and  tell  her  I  '11  be  there  in  a  minute," 
answered  Edith,  too  well  bred  not  to  give  even  an 
unwelcome  guest  a  kindly  greeting. 

Whisking  off  cap  and  apron,  and  taking  a  last  look 
at  the  birds,  just  beginning  to  send  forth  a  savory 
steam,  she  went  to  meet  her  cousin. 

Patty  was  a  rosy,  country  lass  of  sixteen,  plainly 
dressed  and  rather  shy,  but  a  sweet,  sensible  little 
body,  with  a  fresh,  rustic  air  which  marked  her  for  a 
field-flower  at  once. 

"  How  do  you  do,  dear  1  so  sorry  mamma  is  away  ; 
called  to  a  sick  friend  in  a  hurry.  But  I  'm  here  and 
glad  to  see  you.  I  've  an  engagement  at  two,  and 
you  shall  go  with  me.     It's  only  a  lunch  close  by, 


236  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

just  a  party  of  girls ;  I  '11  tell  you  about  it  up- 
stairs." 

Chatting  away,  Edith  led  Patty  up  to  the  pretty 
room  ready  for  her,  and  soon  both  were  laughing  over 
a  lively  account  of  the  exploits  of  the  cooking-class. 
Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  cream-pie  which  had  been 
her  great  success,  and  nearly  the  death  of  all  who 
partook  thereof,  Edith  paused,  sniffed  the  air  like  a 
hound,  and  crying  tragically,  "  They  are  burning ! 
They  are  burning !  "  rushed  down  stairs  as  if  the 
house  was  on  fire. 

Much  alarmed,  Patty  hurried  after  her,  guided  to 
the  kitchen  by  the  sound  of  lamentation.  There  she 
found  Edith  hanging  over  a  stew-pan,  with  anguish  in 
her  face  and  despair  in  her  voice,  as  she  breathlessly 
explained  the  cause  of  her  flight. 

"  My  pigeons !  Are  they  burnt  1  Do  smell  and 
tell  me  ?  After  all  my  trouble  I  shall  be  heart-broken 
if  they  are  spoilt."- 

Both  pretty  noses  sniffed  and  sniffed  again  as  the 
girls  bent  over  the  pan,  regardless  of  the  steam  which 
was  ruining  their  crimps  and  reddening  their  noses. 
Reluctantly,  Patty  owned  that  a  slight  flavor  of  scorch 
did  pervade  the  air,  but  suggested  that  a  touch  more 
seasoning  would  conceal  the  sad  fact. 

"  I  '11  try  it.  Did  you  ever  do  any  1  Do  you  love 
to  cook  1  Don't  you  want  to  make  something  to 
carry  1  It  would  please  the  girls,  and  make  up  for 
my  burnt  mess,"  said  Edith,  as  she  skimmed  the 
broth  and  added  pepper  and  salt  with  a  lavish 
hand  :  — 


THE   COOKIXG-CLASS.  237 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  pigeons,  except  to 
feed  and  pet  them.  We  don't  eat  ours.  I  can  cook 
plain  dishes,  and  make  all  kinds  of  bread.  Would 
biscuit  or  tea-cake  do  3 " 

Patty  looked  so  pleased  at  the  idea  of  contributing 
to  the  feast,  that  Edith  could  not  bear  to  tell  her  that 
hot  biscuit  and  tea-cake  were  not  just  the  thing  for  a 
city  lunch.  She  accepted  the  offer,  and  Patty  fell  to 
work  so  neatly  and  skilfully  that,  by  the  time  the 
pigeons  were  done,  two  pans  full  of  delicious  little 
biscuit  were  baked,  and,  folded  in  a  nice  napkin,  lay 
ready  to  carry  off  in  the  porcelain  plate  with  a  wreath 
of  roses  painted  on  it. 

In  spite  of  all  her  flavoring,  the  burnt  odor  and 
taste  still  lingered  round  Edith's  dish ;  but  fondly 
hoping  no  one  would  perceive  it,  she  dressed  hastily, 
gave  Patty  a  touch  here  and  there,  and  set  forth  at 
the  appointed  time  to  Augusta's  lunch. 

Six  girls  belonged  to  this  class,  and  the  rule  was  for 
each  to  bring  her  contribution  and  set  it  on  the  table 
prepared  to  receive  them  all ;  then,  when  the  number 
was  complete,  the  covers  were  raised,  the  dishes  ex- 
amined, eaten  (if  possible),  and  pronounced  upon,  the 
prize  being  awarded  to  the  best.  The  girl  at  whose 
house  the  lunch  was  given  provided  the  prize,  and 
they  were  often  both  pretty  and  valuable. 

On  this  occasion  a  splendid  bouquet  of  Jaqueminot 
roses  in  a  lovely  vase  ornamented  the  middle  of  the 
table,  and  the  eyes  of  all  rested  admiringly  upon  it, 
as  the  seven  girls  gathered  round,  after  depositing  their 
dishes. 


238  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

Patty  had  been  kindly  welcomed,  and  soon  forgot 
her  shyness  in  wonder  at  the  handsome  dresses,  graceful 
manners,  and  lively  gossip  of  the  girls.  A  pleasant, 
merry  set,  all  wearing  the  uniform  of  the  class,  dainty 
white  aprons  and  coquettish  caps  with  many-colored 
ribbons,  like  stage  maid-servants.  At  the  sound  of  a 
silver  bell,  each  took  her  place  before  the  covered 
dish  which  bore  her  name,  and  when  Augusta  said, 
"  Ladies,  we  will  begin,"  off  went  napkins,  silver  covers, 
white  paper,  or  whatever  hid  the  contribution  from 
longing  eyes.  A  moment  of  deep  silence,  while  quick 
glances  took  in  the  prospect,  and  then  a  unanimous 
explosion  of  laughter  followed ;  for  six  platters  of 
potted  pigeons  stood  upon  the  board,  with  nothing 
but  the  flowers  to  break  the  ludicrous  monotony  of  the 
scene. 

How  they  laughed !  for  a  time  they  could  do  noth- 
ing else,  because  if  one  tried  to  explain  she  broke 
down  and  joined  in  the  gale  of  merriment  again  quite 
helplessly.  One  or  two  got  hysterical  and  cried  as 
well  as  laughed,  and  all  made  such  a  noise  that  Au- 
gusta's mamma  peeped  in  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
Six  agitated  hands  pointed  to  the  comical  sight  on  the 
table,  which  looked  as  if  a  flight  of  potted  pigeons  had 
alighted  there,  and  six  breathless  voices  cried  in  a 
chorus  :  "  Is  n't  it  funny  1     Don't  tell !  " 

Much  amused,  the  good  lady  retired  to  enjoy  the 
joke  alone,  while  the  exhausted  girls  wiped  their  eyes 
and  began  to  talk,  all  at  once.  Such  a  clatter!  but 
out  of  it  all  Patty  evolved  the  fact  that  each  meant  to 
surprise  the  rest,  —  and  they  certainly  had. 


THE   COOKIXG-CLASS.  239 

"  I  tried  puff-paste,"  said  Augusta,  fanning  her  hot 
face. 

"  So  did  I,"  cried  the  others. 

"And  it  was  a  dead  failure." 

"  So  was  mine,"  echoed  the  voices. 

"  Then  I  thought  I  'd  do  the  other  dish  we  had  that 
day  —  " 

"  Just  what  I  did." 

"  Feeling  sure  you  would  all  try  the  pastry,  and 
perhaps  get  on  better  than  I." 

"  Exactly  our  case,"  and  a  fresh  laugh  ended  this 
general  confession. 

"  Now  we  must  eat  our  pigeons,  as  we  have  nothing 
else,  and  it  is  against  the  rule  to  add  from  outside 
stores.  I  propose  that  we  each  pass  our  dish  round ; 
then  we  can  all  criticise  it,  and  so  get  some  good  out  of 
this  very  funny  lunch." 

Augusta's  plan  was  carried  out ;  and  all  being  hungry 
after  their  unusual  exertions,  the  girls  fell  upon  the  un- 
fortunate birds  like  so  many  famished  creatures.  The 
first  one  went  very  well,  but  when  the  dishes  were 
passed  again,  each  taster  looked  at  it  anxiously;  for 
none  were  very  good,  there  was  nothing  to  fall  back  upon, 
and  variety  is  the  spice  of  life,  as  every  one  knows. 

"  Oh,  for  a  slice  of  bread,"  sighed  one  damsel. 

"  Why  did  n't  we  think  of  it  ]  "  asked  another. 

"  I  did,  but  we  always  have  so  much  cake  I  thought 
it  was  foolish  to  lay  in  rolls,"  exclaimed  Augusta, 
rather  mortified  at  the  neglect. 

"  I  expected  to  have  to  taste  six  pies,  and  one 
does  n't  want  bread  with  pastry,  you  know." 


240  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

As  Edith  spoke  she  suddenly  remembered  Patty's 
biscuit,  which  had  been  left  on  the  side-table  by  their 
modest  maker,  as  there  seemed  to  be  no  room  for 
them. 

Rejoicing  now  over  the  rather  despised  dish,  Edith 
ran  to  get  it,  saying  as  she  set  it  in  the  middle,  with  a 
nourish  :  — 

"  My  cousin's  contribution.  She  came  so  late  we 
only  had  time  for  that.  So  glad  I  took  the  liberty  of 
bringing  her  and  them." 

A  murmur  of  welcome  greeted  the  much-desired  ad- 
dition to  the  feast,  which  would  have  been  a  decided 
failure  without  it,  and  the  pretty  plate  went  briskly 
round,  till  nothing  was  left  but  the  painted  roses  in  it. 
With  this  help  the  best  of  the  potted  pigeons  were 
eaten,  while  a  lively  discussion  went  on  about  what 
they  would  have  next  time. 

"Let  us  each  tell  our  dish,  and  not  change.  We 
shall  never  learn  if  we  don't  keep  to  one  thing  till  we 
do  it  well.  I  will  choose  mince-pie,  and  bring  a  good 
one,  if  it  takes  me  all  the  week  to  do  it,"  said  Edith, 
heroically  taking  the  hardest  thing  she  could  think  of, 
to  encourage  the  others. 

Fired  by  this  noble  example,  each  girl  pledged  her- 
self to  do  or  die,  and  a  fine  list  of  rich  dishes  was 
made  out  by  these  ambitious  young  cooks.  Then  a 
vote  of  thanks  to  Patty  was  passed,  her  biscuit  unani- 
mously pronounced  the  most  successful  contribution, 
and  the  vase  presented  to  the  delighted  girl,  whose 
blushes  were  nearly  as  deep  as  the  color  of  the  flowers 
behind  which  she  tried  to  hide  them. 


THE   COOKING-CLASS.  241 

Soon  after  this  ceremony  the  party  broke  up,  and 
Edith  went  home  to  tell  the  merry  story,  proudly 
adding  that  the  country  cousin  had  won  the  prize. 

"  You  rash  child,  to  undertake  mince-pie.  It  is  one 
of  the  hardest  things  to  make,  and  about  the  most 
unwholesome  when  eaten.  Read  the  receipt  and  see 
what  you  have  pledged  yourself  to  do,  my  dear,"  said 
her  mother,  much  amused  at  the  haps  and  mishaps  of 
the  cooking-class. 

Edith  opened  her  book  and  started  bravely  off  at 
"  Puff-paste ; "  but  by  the  time  she  had  come  to  the 
end  of  the  three  pages  devoted  to  directions  for  the 
making  of  that  indigestible  delicacy,  her  face  was  very 
sober,  and  when  she  read  aloud  the  following  receipt 
for  the  mince-meat,  despair  slowly  settled  upon  her 
like  a  cloud. 

One  cup  chopped  meat ;  1  yi  cups  raisins  ;  1 1/2  cups 
currants  ;  \yi  cups  brown  sugar  ;  1%  cups  molasses  ;  3  cups 
chopped  apples;  1  cup  meat  liquor;  2  teaspoonfuls  salt; 
2  teaspoonfuls  cinnamon  ;  %  teaspoonful  mace ;  %.  tea- 
spoonful  powdered  cloves ;  1  lemon,  grated  ;  X  piece  citron, 
sliced  ;  y2  cup  brandy  ;  %  cup  wine  ;  3  teaspoonfuls  rose- 
water. 

"  Oh  me,  what  a  job  !  I  shall  have  to  work  at  it 
every  day  till  next  Saturday,  for  the  paste  alone  will 
take  all  the  wits  I  've  got.  I  tvas  rash,  but  I  spoke 
without  thinking,  and  wanted  to  do  something  really 
fine.  TVe  can't  be  shown  about  things,  so  I  must 
blunder  along  as  well  as  I  can,"  groaned  Edith. 

"  I  can  help  about  the  measuring  and  weighing,  and 
chopping.     I    always   help    mother   at    Thanksgiving 


242  SPDsNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

time,  and  she  makes  splendid  pies.  We  only  have 
mince  then,  as  she  thinks  it 's  bad  for  us,"  said  Patty, 
full  of  sympathy  and  good  will. 

"What  are  you  to  take  to  the  lunch'?"  asked 
Edith's  mother,  smiling  at  her  daughter's  mournful 
face,  bent  over  the  fatal  book  full  of  dainty  messes, 
that  tempted  the  unwary  learner  to  her  doom. 

"  Only  coffee.  I  can't  make  fancy  things,  but  my 
coffee  is  always  good.  They  said  they  wanted  it,  so  I 
offered." 

"I  will  have  my  pills  and  powders  ready,  for  if  you 
all  go  on  at  this  rate  you  will  need  a  dose  of  some  sort 
after  your  lunch.  Give  your  orders,  Edith,  and  de- 
vote your  mind  to  the  task.  I  wish  you  good  luck 
and  good  digestion,  my  dears." 

With  that  the  mamma  left  the  girls  to  cheer  one 
another,  and  lay  plans  for  a  daily  lesson  till  the  per- 
fect pie  was  made. 

They  certainly  did  their  best,  for  they  began  on 
Monday,  and  each  morning  through  the  week  went  to 
the  mighty  task  with  daily  increasing  courage  and 
skill.  They  certainly  needed  the  former,  for  even 
good-natured  Nancy  got  tired  of  having  "  the  young  la- 
dies messing  round  so  much,"  and  looked  cross  as  the 
girls  appeared  in  the  kitchen. 

Edith's  brothers  laughed  at  the  various  failures 
which  appeared  at  table,  and  dear  mamma  was  tired 
of  tasting  pastry  and  mince-meat  in  all  stages  of 
progression.  But  the  undaunted  damsels  kept  on  till 
Saturday  came,  and  a  very  superior  pie  stood  ready  to 
be  offered  for  the  inspection  of  the  class. 


THE   COOKING-CLASS.  243 

"  I  never  want  to  see  another,"  said  Edith,  as  the 
girls  dressed  together,  weary,  but  well  satisfied  with 
their  labor;  for  the  pie  had  been  praised  by  all  be- 
holders, and  the  fragrance  of  Patty's  coffee  filled  the 
house,  as  it  stood  ready  to  be  poured,  hot  and  clear, 
into  the  best  silver  pot,  at  the  last  moment. 

"Well,  I  feel  as  if  I'd  lived  in  a  spice  mill  this 
week,  or  a  pastry-cook's  kitchen ;  and  I  am  glad  we  are 
done.  Your  brothers  won't  get  any  pie  for  a  long 
while  I  guess,  if  it  depends  on  you,"  laughed  Patty, 
putting  on  the  new  ribbons  her  cousin  had  given 
her. 

"  When  Florence's  brothers  were  here  last  night,  I 
heard  those  rascals  making  all  sorts  of  fun  of  us,  and 
Alf  said  we  ought  to  let  them  come  to  lunch.  I 
scorned  the  idea,  and  made  their  mouths  water  telling 
about  the  good  things  we  were  going  to  have,"  said 
Edith,  exulting  over  the  severe  remarks  she  had  made 
to  these  gluttonous  young  men,  who  adored  pie,  yet 
jeered  at  unfortunate  cooks. 

Florence,  the  lunch-giver  of  the  week,  had  made 
her  table  pretty  with  a  posy  at  each  place,  put  the 
necessary  roll  in  each  artistically  folded  napkin,  and 
hung  the  prize  from  the  gas  burner,  —  a  large  blue  satin 
bag  full  of  the  most  delicious  bonbons  money  could 
buy.  There  was  some  delay  about  beginning,  as  one 
distracted  cook  sent  word  that  her  potato-puffs 
wouldn't  brown,  and  begged  them  to  wait  for  her.  So 
they  adjourned  to  the  parlor,  and  talked  till  the 
flushed,  but  triumphant  Ella  arrived  with  the  puffs  in 
fine  order. 


244  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

When  all  was  ready,  and  the  covers  raised,  another 
surprise  awaited  them ;  not  a  merry  one,  like  the  last, 
but  a  very  serious  affair,  which  produced  domestic 
warfare  in  two  houses  at  least.  On  each  dish  lay  a 
card  bearing  a  new  name  for  these  carefully  prepared 
delicacies.  The  mince-pie  was  re-christened  "Night- 
mare," veal  cutlets  "  Dyspepsia,"  escalloped  lobster 
"Fits,"  lemon  sherbet  "Colic,"  coffee  "Palpitation," 
and  so  on,  even  to  the  pretty  sack  of  confectionery 
which  was  labelled  "  Toothache." 

Great  was  the  indignation  of  the  insulted  cooks,  and 
a  general  cry  of  "  Who  did  it  1 "  arose.  The  poor 
maid  who  waited  on  them  declared  with  tears  that  not 
a  soul  had  been  in,  and  she  herself  only  absent  five 
minutes  getting  the  ice-water.  Florence  felt  that  her 
guests  had  been  outraged,  and  promised  to  find  out 
the  wretch,  and  punish  him  or  her  in  the  most  terrible 
manner.  So  the  irate  young  ladies  ate  their  lunch 
before  it  cooled,  but  forgot  to  criticise  the  dishes,  so 
full  were  they  of  wonder  at  this  daring  deed.  They 
were  just  beginning  to  calm  down,  when  a  loud  sneeze 
caused  a  general  rush  toward  the  sofa  that  stood  in  a 
recess  of  the  dining  room.  A  small  boy,  nearly  suffo- 
cated with  suppressed  laughter,  and  dust,  was  dragged 
forth  and  put  on  trial  without  a  moment's  deky. 
Florence  was  judge,  the  others  jury,  and  the  unhappy 
youth  being  penned  in  a  corner,  was  ordered  to  tell 
the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth,  on  penalty  of  a  sound  whipping  with  the  big 
Japanese  war-fan  that  hung  on  the  wall  over  his 
head. 


THE   COOKING-CLASS.  245 

Vainly  trying  to  suppress  his  giggles,  Phil  faced  the 
seven  ladies  like  a  man,  and  told  as  little  as  possible, 
delighting  to  torment  them,  like  a  true  boy. 

"  Do  you  know  who  put  those  cards  there  % " 

"  Don't  you  wish  you  did  1" 

"  Phil  Gordon,  answer  at  once." 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"  Was  it  Alf  ?  He 's  at  home  Saturdays,  and 
it's  just  like  a  horrid  Harvard  Soph  to  plague  us 
so." 

"It  was  — not." 

"Did  you  see  it  done]" 

"  I  did." 

"  Man,  or  woman  1  Mary  fibs,  and  may  have  been 
bribed." 

"  Man,"  with  a  chuckle  of  great  glee. 

"Do  I  know  him?" 

"  Oh,  don't  you  !  " 

"  Edith's  brother  Rex  1 " 

"No,  ma'am." 

"Do  be  a  good  boy,  and  tell  us.  We  won't  scold, 
though  it  was  a  very,  very  rude  thing  to  do." 

"  What  will  you  give  me  1 " 

"Do  you  need  to  be  bribed  to  do  your  duty?" 

"  Well,  J  guess  it 's  no  fun  to  hide  in  that  stuffy- 
place,  and  smell  nice  grub,  and  see  you  tuck  away 
without  offering  a  fellow  a  taste.  Give  me  a  good  go 
at  the  lunch,  and  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"  Boys  are  such  pigs  !     Shall  we,  girls  1 " 

"  Yes,  we  must  know." 

"  Then  go  and  stuff,  you  bad  boy,  but  we  shall 


246  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

stand  guard  over  you  till  you  tell  us  who  wrote  and 
put  those  insulting  cards  here." 

Florence  let  out  the  prisoner,  and  stood  by 
him  while  he  ate,  in  a  surprisingly  short  time, 
the  best  of  everything  on  the  table,  well  knowing 
that  such  a  rare  chance  would  not  soon  be  his 
again. 

"Now  give  me  some  of  that  candy,  and  I'll  tell," 
demanded  the  young  Shylock,  bound  to  make  the  best 
of  his  power  while  it  lasted. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  little  torment  1  I  can't 
give  the  nice  bonbons,  because  we  haven't  decided 
who  is  to  have  them." 

"  Never  mind.  Pick  out  a  few  and  get  rid  of  him," 
cried  the  girls,  hovering  round  their  prey,  and  longing 
to  shake  the  truth  out  of  him. 

A  handful  of  sweeties  were  reluctantly  bestowed, 
and  then  all  waited  for  the  name  of  the  evil-doer  with 
breathless  interest. 

"Well,"  began  Phil,  with  exasperating  slowness, 
"  Alf  wrote  the  cards,  and  gave  me  half  a  dollar  to 
put  'em  round.  Made  a  nice  thing  of  it,  have  n't  I  % " 
and  before  one  of  the  girls  could  catch  him  he  had 
bolted  from  the  room,  with  one  hand  full  of  candy,  the 
other  of  mince-pie,  and  his  face  shining  with  the  tri- 
umphant glee  of  a  small  boy  who  has  teased  seven  big 
girls,  and  got  the  better  of  them. 

What  went  on  just  after  that  is  not  recorded,  though 
Phil  peeped  in  at  the  windows,  hooted  through  the 
slide,  and  beat  a  tattoo  on  the  various  doors.  The 
opportune  arrival  of  his  mother  sent  him  whooping 


THE   COOKING-CLASS.  247 

down  the  street,  and  the  distressed  damsels  finished 
their  lunch  with  what  appetite  they  could. 

Edith  got  the  prize,  for  her  pie  was  pronounced  a 
grand  success,  and  partaken  of  so  copiously  that  sev- 
eral young  ladies  had  reason  to  think  it  well  named 
"Nightmare"  by  the  derisive  Alfred.  Emboldened 
by  her  success,  Edith  invited  them  all  to  her  house  on 
the  next  Saturday,  and  suggested  that  she  and  her 
cousin  provide  the  lunch,  as  they  had  some  new 
dishes  to  offer,  not  down  in  the  receipt-book  they  had 
been  studying  all  winter. 

As  the  ardor  of  the  young  cooks  was  somewhat 
damped  by  various  failures,  and  the  discovery  that 
good  cooking  is  an  art  not  easily  learned,  anything 
in  the  way  of  novelty  was  welcome ;  and  the  girls 
gladly  accepted  the  invitation,  feeling  a  sense  of  relief 
at  the  thought  of  not  having  any  dish  to  worry  about, 
though  not  one  of  them  owned  that  she  was  tired  of 
"messing,"  as  the  disrespectful  boys  called  it. 

It  was  unanimously  decided  to  wither  with  silent 
scorn  the  audacious  Alfred  and  his  ally,  Rex,  while 
Phil  was  to  be  snubbed  by  his  sister  till  he  had 
begged  pardon  for  his  share  of  the  evil  deed.  Then, 
having  sweetened  their  tongues  and  tempers  with  the 
delicious  bonbons,  the  girls  departed,  feeling  that  the 
next  lunch  would  be  an  event  of  unusual  interest. 

The  idea  of  it  originated  in  a  dinner  which  Patty 
got  one  day,  when  Nancy,  who  wanted  a  holiday,  was 
unexpectedly  called  away  to  the  funeral  of  a  cousin,  — 
the  fifth  relative  who  had  died  in  a  year,  such  was  the 
mortality  in  the  jovial  old  creature's  family.     Edith's 


248  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

mother  was  very  busy  with  a  dressmaker,  and  gladly 
accepted  the  offer  the  girls  made  to  get  dinner  alone. 

"  No  fancy  dishes,  if  you  please  ;  the  boys  come 
in  as  hungry  as  hunters,  and  want  a  good  solid  meal ; 
so  get  something  wholesome  and  plain,  and  plenty  of 
it,"  was  the  much-relieved  lady's  only  suggestion,  as 
she  retired  to  the  sewing-room  and  left  the  girls  to 
keep  house  in  their  own  way. 

"  Now,  Edie,  you  be  the  mistress  and  give  your 
orders,  and  I  '11  be  cook.  Only  have  things  that  go 
well  together,  —  not  all  baked  or  all  boiled,  because 
there  is  n't  room  enough  on  the  range,  you  know ;  " 
said  Patty,  putting  on  a  big  apron  with  an  air  of 
great  satisfaction;  for  she  loved  to  cook,  and  was  tired 
of  doing  nothing. 

"  I  '11  watch  all  you  do,  and  learn  ;  so  that  the  next 
time  Nancy  goes  off  in  a  hurry,  I  can  take  her  place, 
and  not  have  to  give  the  boys  what  they  hate,  —  a 
picked-up  dinner,"  answered  Edith,  pleased  with  her 
part,  yet  a  little  mortified  to  find  how  few  plain  things 
she  could  make  well. 

"  What  do  the  boys  like  ? "  asked  Patty,  longing 
to  please  them,  for  they  all  were  very  kind  to  her. 

"  Roast  beef,  and  custard  pudding,  with  two  or 
three  kinds  of  vegetables.     Can  we  do  all  that  V 

11  Yes,  indeed.  I  '11  make  the  pudding  right  away, 
and  have  it  baked  before  the  meat  goes  in.  I  can 
cook  as  many  vegetables  as  you  please,  and  soup  too.'* 

So  the  order  was  given  and  all  went  well,  if  one 
might- judge  by  the  sounds  of  merriment  in  the 
kitchen.       Patty    made    her    best    gingerbread,    and 


THE   COOKING-CLASS.  249 

cooked  some  apples  with  sugar  and  spice  for  tea, 
and  at  the  stroke  of  two  had  a  nice  dinner  smoking 
on  the  table,  to  the  great  contentment  of  the  hungry- 
boys,  who  did  eat  like  hunters,  and  advised  mamma 
to  send  old  Nancy  away  and  keep  Patty  for  cook  j 
which  complimentary  but  rash  proposal  pleased  their 
cousin  very  much. 

"  Now  this  is  useful  cookery,  and  well  done,  though 
it  looks  so  simple.  Any  girl  can  learn  how  and  be 
independent  of  servants,  if  need  be.  Drop  your  class, 
Edith,  and  take  a  few  lessons  of  Patty.  That  would 
suit  me  better  than  French  affairs,  that  are  neither 
economical  nor  wholesome." 

"  I  will,  mamma,  for  I  'm  tired  of  creaming  butter, 
larding  things,  and  beating  eggs.  These  dishes  are 
not  so  elegant,  but  we  must  have  them ;  so  I  may  as 
well  learn,  if  Pat  will  teach  me." 

"With  pleasure,  all  I  know.  Mother  thinks  it  a 
very  important  part  of  a  girl's  education ;  for  if  you 
can't  keep  servants  you  can  do  your  own  work  well, 
and  if  you  are  rich  you  are  not  so  dependent  as  an 
ignorant  lady  is.  All  kinds  of  useful  sewing  and 
housework  come  first  with  us,  and  the  accomplish- 
ments afterward,  as  time  and  money  allow." 

"  That  sort  of  thing  turns  out  the  kind  of  girl  I 
like,  and  so  does  every  sensible  fellow.  Good  luck 
to  you,  cousin,  and  my  best  thanks  for  a  capital 
dinner  and  a  wise  little  lecture  for  dessert." 

Rex  made  his  best  bow  as  he  left  the  table,  and 
Patty  colored  high  with  pleasure  at  the  praise  of  the 
tall  collegian. 


250  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

Out  of  this,  and  the  talk  the  ladies  had  afterward, 
grew  the  lunch  which  Edith  proposed,  and  to  the 
preparation  of  which  went  much  thought  and  care ;  for 
the  girls  meant  to  have  many  samples  of  country  fare, 
so  that  various  tastes  might  be  pleased.  The  plan 
gradually  grew  as  they  worked,  and  a  little  surprise 
was  added,  which  was  a  great  success. 

When  Saturday  came  the  younger  boys  were  all 
packed  off  for  a  holiday  in  the  country,  that  the  coast 
might  be  clear. 

"  No  hiding  under  sofas  in  my  house,  no  meddling 
with  my  dinner,  if  you  please,  gentlemen,"  said  Edith, 
as  she  saw  the  small  brothers  safely  off,  and  fell  to 
work  with  Patty  and  the  maid  to  arrange  the  dining- 
room  to  suit  the  feast  about  to  be  spread  there- 

As  antique  furniture  is  the  fashion  now-a-days,  it 
was  easy  to  collect  all  the  old  tables,  chairs,  china,  and 
ornaments  in  the  house,  and  make  a  pleasant  place  of 
the  sunny  room  where  a  tall  clock  always  stood ;  and 
damask  hangings  a  century  old  added  much  to  the 
effect.  A  massive  mahogany  table  was  set  forth  with 
ancient  silver,  glass,  china,  and  all  sorts  of  queer  old 
salt-cellars,  pepper-pots,  pickle-dishes,  knives,  and 
spoons.  High-backed  chairs  stood  round  it,  and  the 
guests  were  received  by  a  very  pretty  old  lady  in 
plum-colored  satin,  with  a  muslin  pelerine,  and  a  large 
lace  cap  most  becoming  to  the  rosy  face  it  surrounded. 
A  fat  watch  ticked  in  the  wide  belt,  mitts  covered  the 
plump  hands,  and  a  reticule  hung  at  the  side.  Mad- 
am's daughter,  in  a  very  short-waisted  pink  silk  gown, 
muslin  apron,  and   frill,   was  even  prettier  than  her 


THE   COOKING-CLASS.  251 

mother,  for  her  dark,  curly  hair  hung  on  her  shoulders, 
and  a  little  cap  was  stuck  on  the  top,  with  long  pink 
streamers.  Her  mitts  went  to  the  elbow,  and  a  pink 
sash  was  tied  in  a  large  bow  behind.  Black  satin 
shoes  covered  her  feet,  and  a  necklace  of  gold  beads 
was  round  her  throat. 

Great  was  the  pleasure  this  little  surprise  gave 
the  girls,  and  gay  was  the  chatter  that  went  on  as 
they  were  welcomed  by  the  hostesses,  who  constantly 
forgot  their  parts.  Madam  frisked  now  and  then,  and 
"  Pretty  Peggy  "  was  so  anxious  about  dinner  that  she 
was  not  as  devoted  to  her  company  as  a  well-bred 
young  lady  should  be.  But  no  one  minded,  and  when 
the  bell  rang,  all  gathered  about  the  table  eager  to  see 
what  the  feast  was  to  be. 

"  Ladies,  we  have  endeavored  to  give  you  a  taste  of 
some  of  the  good  old  dishes  rather  out  of  fashion  now," 
said  Madam,  standing  at  her  place,  with  a  napkin 
pinned  over  the  purple  dress,  and  a  twinkle  in  the 
blue  eyes  under  the  wide  cap-frills.  "  We  thought  it 
would  be  well  to  introduce  some  of  them  to  the  class 
and  to  our  family  cooks,  who  either  scorn  the  plain 
dishes,  or  don't  know  how  to  cook  them  loell.  There 
is  a  variety,  and  we  hope  all  will  find  something  to 
enjoy.     Peggy,  uncover,  and  let  us  begin." 

At  first  the  girls  looked  a  little  disappointed,  for 
the  dishes  were  not  very  new  to  them  ;  but  when  they 
tasted  a  real  "  boiled  dinner,"  and  found  how  good  it 
was  ;  also  baked  beans,  neither  hard,  greasy,  nor  burnt ; 
beefsteak,  tender,  juicy,  and  well  flavored  ;  potatoes, 
mealy  in  spite  of  the  season ;  Indian  pudding,  made  as 


252  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

few  modern  cooks  know  how  to  do  it ;  brown  bread, 
with  home-made  butter ;  and  pumpkin-pie  that  cut 
like  wedges  of  vegetable  gold,  —  they  changed  their 
minds,  and  began  to  eat  with  appetites  that  would 
have  destroyed  their  reputations  as  delicate  young 
ladies,  if  they  had  been  seen.  Tea  in  egg-shell  cups, 
election-cake  and  cream-cheese  wTith  fruit  ended  the 
dinner ;  and  as  they  sat  admiring  the  tiny  old  spoons, 
the  crisp  cake,  and  the  little  cheeses  like  snow-balls, 
Edith  said,  in  reply  to  various  compliments  paid 
her  :  — 

"  Let  us  give  honor  where  honor  is  due.  Patty 
suggested  this,  and  did  most  of  the  cooking ;  so  thank 
her,  and  borrow  her  receipt-book.  It 's  very  funny, 
ever  so  old,  copied  and  tried  by  her  grandmother,  and 
full  of  directions  for  making  quantities  of  nice  things, 
from  pie  like  this  to  a  safe,  sure  wash  for  the  com- 
plexion. May-dew,  rose-leaves,  and  lavender, — does  n't 
that  sound  lovely  1 " 

"  Let  me  copy  it,"  cried  several  girls  afflicted  with 
freckles,  or  sallow  with  too  much  coffee  and  confec- 
tionery. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  But  I  was  going  to  say,  as  we  have 
no  prize  to-day,  we  have  prepared  a  little  souvenir  of 
our  old-fashioned  dinner  for  each  of  you.  Bring  them, 
daughter;  I  hope  the  ladies  will  pardon  the  homeli- 
ness of  the  offering,  and  make  use  of  the  hint  that 
accompanies  each." 

As  Edith  spoke,  with  a  comical  mingling  of  the 
merry  girl  and  the  stately  old  lady  she  was  trying  to 
personate,  Patty  brought  from  the  side-board,  where 


THE   COOKING-CLASS.  253 

it  had  stood  covered  up,  a  silver  salver  on  which  lay- 
five  dainty  little  loaves  of  bread ;  on  the  top  of  each 
appeared  a  receipt  for  making  the  same,  nicely  written 
on  colored  cards,  and  held  in  place  by  a  silver  scarf- 
pin. 

"How  cunning!"  "What  lovely  pins!"  "I'll  take 
the  hint  and  learn  to  make  good  bread  at  once."  "  It 
smells  as  sweet  as  a  nut,  and  is  n't  hard  or  heavy  a 
bit."  "  Such  a  pretty  idea,  and  so  clever  of  you  to 
carry  it  out  so  well." 

These  remarks  went  on  as  the  little  loaves  went 
round,  each  girl  finding  her  pin  well  suiteH  to  her  pet 
fancy  or  foible;  for  all  were  different,  and  all  very 
pretty,  whether  the  design  was  a  palette,  a  skate,  a 
pen,  a  racquet,  a  fan,  a  feather,  a  bar  of  music,  or  a 
daisy. 

Seeing  that  her  dinner  was  a  success  in  spite  of  its 
homeliness,  Edith  added  the  last  surprise,  which  had 
also  been  one  to  Patty  and  herself  when  it  arrived, 
just  in  time  to  be  carried  out.  She  forgot  to  be 
Madam  now,  and  said  with  a  face  full  of  mingled 
merriment  and  satisfaction,  as  she  pushed  her  cap 
askew  and  pulled  off  her  mitts  :  — 

"  Girls,  the  best  joke  of  all  is,  that  Rex  and  Alf 
sent  the  pins,  and  made  Phil  bring  them  with  a  most 
humble  apology  for  their  impertinence  last  week.  A 
meeker  boy  I  never  saw,  and  for  that  we  may  thank 
Floy ;  but  I  think  the  dinner  Pat  and  I  got  the  other 
day  won  Rex's  heart,  so  that  he  made  Alf  eat  humble 
pie  in  this  agreeable  manner.  We  won't  say  anything 
about  it,  but  all  wear  our  pins  and  show  the  boys  that  we 


254  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

can  forgive  and  forget  as  "  sweet  girls  "  should,  though 
we  do  cook  and  have  ideas  of  our  own  beyond  looking 
pretty  and  minding  our  older  brothers." 

"  We  will ! "  cried  the  chorus  with  one  voice,  and 
Florence  added  :  — 

"  I  also  propose  that  when  we  have  learned  to  make 
something  beside  'kickshaws,'  as  the  boys  call  our 
fancy  dishes,  we  have  a  dinner  like  this,  and  invite 
those  rascals  to  it ;  which  will  be  heaping  coals  of  fire 
on  their  heads,  and  stopping  their  mouths  forevermore 
from  making  jokes  about  our  cooking-class." 


Tramp,  tramp,  tramp !  that  was  the  boys  going- 
down  stairs  in  a  hurry. 

Bump,  bump !  that  was  the  bicycle  being  zigzagged 
through  the  hall. 

Bang!  that  was  the  front  door  slamming  behind 
both  boys  and  bicycle,  leaving  the  house  quiet  for  a 
time,  though  the  sound  of  voices  outside  suggested 
that  a  lively  discussion  was  going  on. 

The  bicycle  fever  had  reached  Perryville,  and  raged 
all  summer.  Xow  the  town  was  very  like  a  once 
tranquil  pool  infested  with  the  long-legged  water  bugs 
that  go  skating  over  its  surface  in  all  directions ;  for 
wheels  of  every  kind  darted  to  and  fro,  startling 
horses,  running  over  small  children,  and  pitching  their 
riders  headlong  in  the  liveliest  manner.  Men  left 
their  business  to  see  the  lads  try  new  wheels,  women 
grew  skilful  in  the  binding  of  wounds  and  the  mend- 
ing of  sorely  rent  garments,  gay  girls  begged  for  rides, 
standing  on  the  little  step  behind,  and  boys  clamored 
for  bicycles  that  they  might  join  the  army  of  martyrs 
to  the  last  craze. 


256  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Sidney  West  was  the  proud  possessor  of  the  best 
wheel  in  town,  and  displayed  his  treasure  with  im- 
mense satisfaction  before  the  admiring  eyes  of  his 
mates.  He  had  learned  to  ride  in  a  city  rink,  and 
nattered  himself  that  he  knew  all  there  was  to  learn, 
except  those  feats  which  only  professional  gymnasts 
acquire.  He  mounted  with  skilful  agility,  rode  with 
as  much  grace  as  the  tread -mill  movements  of  the  legs 
permit,  and  managed  to  guide  his  tall  steed  without 
much  danger  to  himself  or  others.  The  occasional 
headers  he  took,  and  the  bruises  which  kept  his  manly 
limbs  in  a  chronic  state  of  mourning  he  did  not  men- 
tion ;  but  concealed  his  stiffness  heroically,  and  bound 
his  younger  brother  to  eternal  silence  by  the  bribe  of 
occasional  rides  on  the  old  wheel. 

Hugh  was  a  loyal  lad,  and  regarded  his  big  brother 
as  the  most  remarkable  fellow  in  the  world ;  so  he  for- 
gave Sid's  domineering  ways,  was  a  willing  slave,  a  de- 
voted admirer,  and  a  faithful  imitator  of  all  the 
masculine  virtues,  airs,  and  graces  of  this  elder  brother. 
On  one  point  only  did  they  disagree,  and  that  was 
Sid's  refusal  to  give  Hugh  the  old  wheel  when  the  new 
one  came.  Hugh  had  fondly  hoped  it  would  be  his, 
hints  to  that  effect  having  been  dropped  when  Sid 
wanted  an  errand  done,  and  for  weeks  the  younger 
boy  had  waited  and  labored  patiently,  sure  that  his 
reward  would  be  the  small  bicycle  on  which  he  could 
proudly  take  his  place  as  a  member  of  the  newly  formed 
club ;  with  them  to  set  forth,  in  the  blue  uniform,  with 
horns  blowing,  badges  glittering,  and  legs  flying,  for  a 
long  spin,  —  to  return  after  dark,  a  mysterious  line  of 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE.       257 

tall  shadows,  "  with  lanterns  dimly  burning,"  and 
warning  whistles  sounding  as  they  went. 

Great,  therefore,  was  his  disappointment  and  wrath 
when  he  discovered  that  Sid  had  agreed  to  sell  the 
wheel  to  another  fellow,  if  it  suited  him,  leaving  poor 
Hugh  the  only  boy  of  his  set  without  a  machine. 
Much  as  he  loved  Sid,  he  could  not  forgive  this  un- 
derhand and  mercenary  transaction.  It  seemed  so 
unbrotherly  to  requite  such  long  and  willing  service, 
to  dash  such  ardent  hopes,  to  betray  such  blind 
confidence,  for  filthy  lucre ;  and  when  the  deed 
was  done,  to  laugh,  and  ride  gayly  away  on  the 
splendid  British  Challenge,  the  desire  of  all  hearts 
and  eyes. 

This  morning  Hugh  had  freely  vented  his  outraged 
feelings,  and  Sid  had  tried  to  make  light  of  the  affair, 
though  quite  conscious  that  he  had  been  both  unkind 
and  unfair.  A  bicycle  tournament  was  to  take  place 
in  the  city,  twenty  miles  away,  and  the  members  of  the 
club  were  going.  Sid,  wishing  to  distinguish  himself, 
intended  to  ride  thither,  and  was  preparing  for  the 
long  trip  with  great  care.  Hugh  was  wild  to  go,  but 
having  spent  his  pocket-money  and  been  forbidden  to 
borrow,  he  could  not  take  the  cars  as  the  others  had 
done ;  no  horse  was  to  be  had,  and  their  own  stud 
consisted  of  an  old  donkey,  who  would  have  been  hope- 
less even  with  the  inducement  offered  in  the  immor- 
tal ditty,  — 

'*  If  I  had  a  donkey  what  would  n't  go, 
Do  you  think  I  'd  whip  him  ?  Oh,  no,  no  ! 
I  'd  take  him  to  Jarley's  Wax- work  Show." 
17 


258  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

Therefore  poor  Hugh  was  in  a  desperate  state  of 
mind  as  he  sat  on  the  gate-post  watching  Sid  make 
his  pet's  toilet,  till  every  plated  handle,  rod,  screw, 
and  axle  shone  like  silver. 

"  I  know  I  could  have  ridden  the  Star  if  you 
had  n't  let  Joe  have  it.  I  do  think  it  was  right  down 
mean  of  you ;  so  does  Aunt  Kuth,  and  father  too, 
—  only  he  wont  say  so,  because  men  always  stand  by 
one  another,  and  snub  boys." 

This  was  strong  language  for  gentle  Hugh,  but  he 
felt  that  he  must  vent  his  anguish  in  some  way  or 
cry  like  a  girl ;  and  that  disgrace  must  be  avoided, 
even  if  he  failed  in  respect  to  his  elders. 

Sid  was  whistling  softly  as  he  oiled  and  rubbed, 
but  he  was  not  feeling  as  easy  as  he  looked,  and 
heartily  wished  that  he  had  not  committed  himself  to 
Joe,  for  it  would  have  been  pleasant  to  take  "the 
little  chap,"  as  he  called  the  fourteen-year-older, 
along  with  him,  and  do  the  honors  of  the  rink  on 
this  great  occasion.  Now  it  was  too  late;  so  he 
affected  a  careless  air,  and  added  insult  to  injury  by 
answering  his  brother's  reproaches  in  the  joking  spirit 
which  is  peculiarly  exasperating  at  such  moments. 

"Children  shouldn't  play  with  matches,  nor  small 
boys  with  bicycles.  I  don't  want  to  commit  murder, 
and  I  certainly  should  if  I  let  you  try  to  ride  twenty 
miles  when  you  can't  go  one  without  nearly  break- 
ing your  neck,  or  your  knees,"  and  Sid  glanced  with 
a  smile  at  the  neat  darns  which  ornamented  his 
brother's  trousers  over  those  portions  of  his  long 
legs. 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE.       259 

"  How's  a  fellow  going  to  learn  if  he  is  n't  allowed  to 
try  %  Might  as  well  tell  me  to  keep  away  from  the 
water  till  I  can  swim.  You  give  me  a  chance  and 
see  if  I  can't  ride  as  well  as  some  older  fellows  who 
have  been  pitched  round  pretty  lively  before  they 
dared  to  try  a  twenty-mile  spin,"  answered  Hugh, 
clapping  both  hands  on  his  knees  to  hide  the  tell-tale 
darns. 

"  If  Joe  does  n't  want  it,  you  can  use  the  old  wheel 
till  I  decide  what  to  do  with  it.  I  suppose  a  man 
has  a  right  to  sell  his  own  property  if  he  likes,"  said 
Sid,  rather  nettled  at  the  allusion  to  his  own  tribula- 
tions in  times  past. 

"Of  course  he  has;  but  if  he's  promised  to  give  a 
thing  he  ought  to  do  it,  and  not  sneak  out  of  the 
bargain  after  he 's  got  lots  of  work  done  to  pay  for  it. 
That 's  what  makes  me  mad ;  for  I  believed  you  and 
depended  on  it,  aud  it  hurts  me  more  to  have  you 
deceive  me  than  it  would  to  lose  ten  bicycles ; "  and 
Hugh  choked  a  little  at  the  thought,  in  spite  of  his 
attempt  to  look  sternly  indignant. 

"  You  are  welcome  to  your  opinion,  but  I  would  n't 
cry  about  it.  Play  with  chaps  of  your  own  size  and 
don't  hanker  after  men's  property.  Take  the  cars,  if 
you  want  to  go  so  much,  and  stop  bothering  me," 
retorted  Sid,  getting  cross  because  he  was  in  the 
wrong  and  would  n't  own  it. 

"  You  know  I  can't  !  No  money,  and  must  n't 
borrow.  What's  the  use  of  twitting  a  fellow  like 
that  ] "  and  Hugh  with  great  difficulty  refrained  from 
knocking  off  the  new  helmet-hat  which  was  close  to 


260  SPINNING-WHEEL  STORIES. 

his  foot  as  Sid  bent  to  inspect  the  shining  hub  of  the 
cherished  wheel. 

"Take  Sancho,  then;  you  might  arrive  before  the 
fun  was  all  over,  if  you  carried  whips  and  pins  and 
crackers  enough  to  keep  the  old  boy  going ;  you  'd 
be  a  nice  span." 

This  allusion  to  the  useless  donkey  was  cruel,  but 
Hugh  held  on  to  the  last  remnant  of  his  temper, 
and  made  a  wild  proposal  in  the  despair  of  the 
moment. 

"  Don't  be  a  donkey  yourself.  See  here,  why  can't 
we  ride  and  tie?  I've  tried  this  wheel,  and  got  on 
tip-top.  You  'd  be  along  to  see  to  me,  and  we  'd  take 
turns.  Do,  Sid  !  I  want  to  go  awfully,  and  if  you 
only  will  I  won't  say  another  word  about  Joe." 

But  Sid  only  burst  out  laughing  at  the  plan,  in  the 
most  heartless   manner. 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  don't  mean  to  walk  a  step 
when  I  can  ride ;  or  lend  my  new  wheel  to  a  chap  who 
can  hardly  keep  right  side  up  on  the  old  one.  It 
looks  like  a  jolly  plan  to  you,  I  dare  say,  but  /  don't 
see  it,  young  man." 

"  I  hope  /  sha'n't  be  a  selfish  brute  when  I  'm 
seventeen.  I  '11  have  a  bicycle  yet,  —  A,  No.  1,  — 
and  then  you'll  see  how  I  '11  lend  it,  like  a  gentleman, 
and  not  insult  other  fellows  because  they  happen  to 
be  two  or  three  years  younger." 

"  Keep  cool,  my  son,  and  don't  call  names.  If  you 
are  such  a  smart  lad,  why  don't  you  walk,  since  wheels 
and  horses  and  donkey  fail.  It 's  only  twenty  miles, 
—  nothing  to  speak  of,  you  know." 


THE   HARE   AND   THE   TORTOISE.  261 

"  Well,  I  could  do  it  if  I  liked.  I  've  walked 
eighteen,  and  was  n't  half  so  tired  as  you  were.  Any- 
one can  get  over  the  ground  on  a  bicycle,  but  it  takes 
strength  and  courage  to  keep  it  up  on  foot." 

u  Better  try  it." 

"  I  will,  some  day." 

"  Don't  crow  too  loud,  my  little  rooster  \  you  are 
not  cock  of  the  walk  yet." 

"  If  I  was,  I  would  n't  hit  a  fellow  when  he 's  down ; " 
and  fearing  he  should  kick  over  the  tall  bicycle  that 
stood  so  temptingly  near  him,  Hugh  walked  away, 
trying  to  whistle,  though  his  lips  were  more  inclined 
to  tremble  than  to  pucker. 

"  Just  bring  my  lunch,  will  you  1  Auntie  is  put- 
ting it  up ;  I  must  be  off,"  called  Sid,  so  used  to  giv- 
ing orders  that  he  did  so  even  at  this  unpropitious 
moment. 

"  Get  it  yourself.  I  3m  not  going  to  slave  for  you 
any  longer,  old  tyrant,"  growled  Hugh ;  for  the  trod- 
den worm  turned  at  last,  as  worms  will. 

This  was  open  revolt,  and  Sid  felt  that  things  were 
in  a  bad  way,  but  would  not  stop  to  mend  them 
then. 

"  Whew  !  here 's  a  tempest  in  a  teapot.  Well,  it 
is  too  bad  ;  but  I  can't  help  it  now.  I  '11  make  it  all 
right  to-morrow,  and  bring  him  round  with  a  nice 
account  of  the  fun.  Hullo,  Bemis  !  going  to  town  1 " 
he  called,  as  a  neighbor  came  spinning  noiselessly  by. 

11  Part  way,  and  take  the  cars  at  Lawton.  It 's  hard 
riding  over  the  hills,  and  a  bother  to  steer  a  wheel 
through  the  streets.     Come  on,  if  you  're  ready." 


262  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

"  All  right ; "  and  springing  up,  Sid  was  off,  forget- 
ting all  about  the  lunch. 

Hugh,  dodging  behind  the  lilac-bushes,  heard  what 
passed,  and  the  moment  they  were  gone  ran  to  the 
gate  to  watch  them  out  of  sight  with  longing  eyes, 
then  turned  away,  listlessly  wondering  how  he  should 
spend  the  holiday  his  brother  was  going  to  enjoy  so 
much. 

At  that  moment  Aunt  Ruth  hurried  to  the  door, 
waving  the  leathern  pouch  well  stored  with  cake  and 
sandwiches,  cold  coffee  and  pie. 

"  Sid  's  forgotten  his  bag.  Run,  call,  stop  him  !  " 
she  cried,  trotting  down  the  walk  with  her  cap-strings 
waving  wildly  in  the  fresh  October  wind. 

For  an  instant  Hugh  hesitated,  thinking  sullenly, 
"  Serves  him  right.  I  won't  run  after  him  ;  "  then  his 
kind  heart  got  the  better  of  his  bad  humor,  and  catch- 
ing up  the  bag  he  raced  down  the  road  at  his  best 
pace,  eager  to  heap  coals  of  fire  on  Sid's  proud  head, 
—  to  say  nothing  of  his  own  desire  to  see  more  of  the 
riders. 

"  They  will  have  to  go  slowly  up  the  long  hill,  and 
I  '11  catch  them  then,"  he  thought  as  he  tore  over 
the  ground,  for  he  was  a  good  runner  and  prided 
himself  on  his  strong  legs. 

Unfortunately  for  his  amiable  intentions,  the  boys 
had  taken  a  short  cut  to  avoid  the  hill,  and  were  out 
of  sight  down  a  lane  where  Hugh  never  dreamed  they 
would  dare  to  go,  so  mounted. 

"  Well,  they  have  done  well  to  get  over  the  hill  at 
this  rate.     Guess  they  won't  keep  it  up  long,"  panted 


THE   HARE   AND   THE   TORTOISE.  263 

Hugh,  stopping  short  when  he  saw  no  signs  of  the 
riders. 

The  road  stretched  invitingly  before  him,  the  race 
had  restored  his  spirits,  and  curiosity  to  see  what  had 
become  of  his  friends  lured  him  to  the  hill-top,  where 
temptation  sat  waiting  for  him.  Up  he  trudged, 
finding  the  fresh  air,  the  sunny  sky,  the  path  strewn 
with  red  and  yellow  leaves,  and  the  sense  of  freedom 
so  pleasant  that  when  he  reached  the  highest  point 
and  saw  the  world  all  before  him,  as  it  were,  a  daring 
project  seemed  to  flash  upon  him,  nearly  taking  his 
breath  away  with  its  manifold  delights. 

"Sid  said,  'Walk,'  and  why  not?  —  at  least  to 
Lawton,  and  take  the  cars  from  there,  as  Bemis  means 
to  do.  Would  n't  the  old  fellows  be  surprised  to  see 
me  turn  up  at  the  rink  %  It 's  quarter  past  eight  now, 
and  the  fun  begins  at  three ;  I  could  get  there  easy 
enough,  and  by  Jupiter,  I  will !  Got  lunch  all  here, 
and  money  enough  to  pay  this  car-fare,  I  guess.  If 
I  have  n't,  I  '11  go  a  little  further  and  take  a  horse- 
car.  What  a  lark  !  here  goes,"  —  and  with  a  whoop 
of  boyish  delight  at  breaking  bounds,  away  went 
Hugh  down  the  long  hill,  like  a  colt  escaped  from  its 
pasture. 

The  others  were  just  ahead,  but  the  windings  of  the 
road  hid  them  from  him  ;  so  all  went  on,  unconscious 
of  each  other's  proximity.  Hugh's  run  gave  him  a 
good  start,  and  he  got  over  the  ground  famously  for 
five  or  six  miles  ;  then  he  went  more  slowly,  thinking 
he  had  plenty  of  time  to  catch  a  certain  train.  But 
he  had  no  watch,  and  when  he  reached  Lawton  he  had 


264  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  cars  go  out  at  one  end  of 
the  station  as  he  hurried  in  at  the  other. 

"  I  won't  give  it  up,  but  just  go  on  and  do  it  afoot. 
That  will  be  something  to  brag  of  when  the  other  chaps 
tell  big  stories.  I  '11  see  how  fast  I  can  go,  for  I  'm 
not  tired,  and  can  eat  on  the  way.  Much  obliged  to 
Sid  for  a  nice  lunch." 

And  chuckling  over  this  piece  of  good  luck,  Hugh 
set  out  again,  only  pausing  for  a  good  drink  at  the 
town-pump.  The  thirteen  miles  did  not  seem  very 
long  when  he  thought  of  them,  but  as  he  walked  them 
they  appeared  to  grow  longer  and  longer,  till  he  felt 
as  if  he  must  have  travelled  about  fifty.  He  was  in 
good  practice,  and  fortunately  had  on  easy  shoes ;  but 
he  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  make  good  time  that  he 
allowed  himself  no  rest,  and  jogged  on,  up  hill  and 
down,  with  the  resolute  air  of  one  walking  for  a  wager. 
There  we  will  leave  him,  and  see  what  had  befallen  Sid ; 
for  his  adventures  were  more  exciting  than  Hugh's, 
though  all  seemed  plain  sailing  when  he  started. 

At  Lawton  he  had  parted  from  his  friend  and  gone 
on  alone,  having  laid  in  a  store  of  gingerbread  from 
a  baker's '  cart,  and  paused  to  eat,  drink,  and  rest  by 
a  wayside  brook.  A  few  miles  further  he  passed  a 
party  of  girls  playing  lawn  tennis,  and  as  he  slowly 
rolled  along  regarding  them  from  his  lofty  perch,  one 
suddenly  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Why,  it 's  our  neighbor,  Sidney  West !  How  did  he 
come  here  1 "  and  waving  her  racquet,  Alice  ran  across 
the  lawn  to  find  out. 

Very  willing  to  stop  and  display  his  new  uniform, 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE.       265 

which  was  extremely  becoming,  Sid  dismounted,  doffed 
his  helmet,  and  smiled  upon  the  damsels,  leaning  over 
the  hedge  like  a  knight  of  old. 

"  Come  in  and  play  a  game,  and  have  some  lunch. 
You  will  have  plenty  of  time,  and  some  of  us  are  going 
to  the  rink  by  and  by.  Do,  we  want  a  boy  to  help  us, 
for  Maurice  is  too  lazy,  and  Jack  has  hurt  his  hand 
with  that  stupid  base  ball,"  said  Alice,  beckoning  per- 
suasively, while  the  other  girls  nodded  and  smiled 
hopefully. 

Thus  allured,  the  youthful  Ulysses  hearkened  to  the 
voice  of  the  little  Circe  in  a  round  hat,  and  entered 
the  enchanted  grove,  to  forget  the  passage  of  time 
as  he  disported  himself  among  the  nymphs.  He  was 
not  changed  to  a  beast,  as  in  the  immortal  story, 
though  the  three  young  gentlemen  did  lie  about  the 
lawn  in  somewhat  grovelling  attitudes;  and  Alice 
waved  her  racquet  as  if  it  were  a  wand,  while  her 
friends  handed  glasses  of  lemonade  to  the  recumbent 
heroes  during  pauses  in  the  game. 

While  thus  blissfully  engaged,  time  slipped  away, 
and  Hugh  passed  him  in  the  race,  quite  unconscious 
that  his  brother  was  reposing  in  the  tent  that  looked 
so  inviting  as  the  dusty,  tired  boy  plodded  by,  count- 
ing every  mile-stone  with  increasing  satisfaction. 

"  If  I  get  to  Uncle  Tim's  by  one  o'clock,  I  shall 
have  done  very  well.  Four  miles  an  hour  is  a  fair 
pace,  and  only  one  stop.  I  '11  telegraph  to  auntie  as 
soon  as  I  arrive ;  but  she  won't  worry,  she  's  used  to 
having  us  turn  up  all  right  when  we  get  ready," 
thought  Hugh,  grateful  that  no  over-anxious  mamma 


266  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES, 

was  fretting  about  his  long  absence.  The  boys  had 
no  mother,  and  Aunt  Ruth  was  an  easy  old  lady  who 
let  them  do  as  they  liked,  to  their  great  contentment. 

As  he  neared  his  journey's  end  our  traveller's  spirits 
rose,  and  the  blisters  on  his  heels  were  forgotten  in 
the  dramatic  scene  his  fancy  painted,  when  Sid  should 
discover  him  at  Uncle  Tim's,  or  calmly  seated  at  the 
rink.  Whistling  gayly,  he  was  passing  through  a 
wooded  bit  of  road  when  the  sound  of  voices  made  him 
look  back  to  see  a  carriage  full  of  girls  approaching, 
escorted  by  a  bicycle  rider,  whose  long  blue  legs 
looked  strangely  familiar. 

Anxious  to  keep  his  secret  till  the  last  moment, 
also  conscious  that  he  was  not  in  company  trim,  Hugh 
dived  into  the  wood,  out  of  sight,  while  the  gay  party 
went  by,  returning  to  the  road  as  soon  as  they  were 
hidden  by  a  bend. 

"If  Sid  hadn't  been  so  mean,  I  should  have  been 
with  him,  and  had  some  of  the  fun.  I  don't  feel  like 
forgiving  him  in  a  hurry  for  making  me  foot  it,  like  a 
tramp,  while  he  is  having  such  a  splendid  time." 

If  Hugh  could  have  known  what  was  to  happen 
very  soon  after  he  had  muttered  these  words  to  him- 
self, as  he  wiped  his  hot  face,  and  took  the  last  sip  of 
the  coffee  to  quench  his  thirst,  he  would  have  been  sorry 
he  uttered  them,  and  have  forgiven  his  brother  every- 
thing. 

While  he  was  slowly  toiling  up  the  last  long  hill, 
Sid  was  coasting  down  on  the  other  side,  eager  to  dis- 
play his  courage  and  skill  before  the  girls,  —  being  of  an 
age  when  boys  begin  to  wish  to  please  and  astonish 


THE   HARE   AND   THE   TORTOISE.  267 

the  gentler  creatures  whom  they  have  hitherto  treated 
with  indifference  or  contempt.  It  was  a  foolish  thing 
to  do,  for  the  road  was  rough,  with  steep  banks  on 
either  side,  and  a  sharp  turn  at  the  end ;  but  Sid 
rolled  gayly  along,  with  an  occasional  bump,  till  a 
snake  ran  across  the  road,  making  the  horse  shy,  the 
girls  scream,  the  rider  turn  to  see  what  was  the  mat- 
ter, and  in  doing  so  lose  his  balance  just  when  a  large 
stone  needed  to  be  avoided.  Over  went  Sid,  down 
rattled  the  wheel,  up  rose  a  cloud  of  dust,  and  sudden 
silence  fell  upon  the  girls  at  sight  of  this  disaster. 
They  expected  their  gallant  escort  would  spring  up 
and  laugh  over  his  accident ;  but  when  he  remained 
flat  upon  his  back,  where  he  had  alighted  after  a  som- 
ersault, with  the  bicycle  spread  over  him  like  a  pall, 
they  were  alarmed,  and  flew  to  the  rescue. 

A  cut  on  the  forehead  was  bleeding,  and  the  blow 
had  evidently  stunned  him  for  a  moment.  Luckily,  a 
house  was  near,  and  a  man  seeing  the  accident  has- 
tened to  offer  more  efficient  help  than  any  the  girls  had 
wit  enough  to  give  in  the  first  flurry,  as  all  four  only 
flapped  wildly  at  Sid  with  their  handkerchiefs,  and  ex- 
claimed excitedly,  — 

"  What  shall  we  do  %  Is  he  dead  ]  Run  for  water. 
Call  somebody,  quick." 

"  Don't  be  scat,  gals ;  it  takes  a  sight  of  thumpin'  to 
break  a  boy's  head.  He  ain't  hurt  much ;  kinder 
dazed  for  a  minute.  I  '11  hist  up  this  pesky  mashine 
and  set  him  on  his  legs,  if  he  hain't  damaged  'em." 

With  these  cheering  words,  the  farmer  cleared  away 
the  ruins,  and  propped  the  fallen  rider  against  a  tree ; 


268  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

which  treatment  had  such  a  good  effect  that  Sid  was 
himself  in  a  moment,  and  much  disgusted  to  find 
what  a  scrape  he  was  in. 

"  This  is  nothing,  a  mere  bump ;  quite  right,  thanks. 
Let  us  go  on  at  once ;  so  sorry  to  alarm  you,  ladies." 
He  began  his  polite  speech  bravely,  but  ended  with  a 
feeble  smile  and  a  clutch  at  the  tree,  suddenly  turning 
sick  and  dizzy  again. 

"  You  come  along  a  me.  I  '11  tinker  you  and  your 
whirligig  up,  young  man.  No  use  sayin'  go  ahead,  for 
the  thing  is  broke,  and  you  want  to  keep  quiet  for  a 
spell.  Drive  along,  gals,  I  '11  see  to  him ;  and  my  old 
woman  can  nuss  him  better  'n  a  dozen  flutterin'  young 
things  scat  half  to  death." 

Taking  matters  into  his  own  hands,  the  farmer  had 
boy  and  bicycle  under  his  roof  in  five  minutes ;  and 
with  vain  offers  of  help,  many  regrets,  and  promises  to 
let  his  Uncle  Tim  know  where  he  was,  in  case  he  did 
not  arrive,  the  girls  reluctantly  drove  away,  leaving 
no  sign  of  the  catastrophe  except  the  trampled  road, 
and  a  dead  snake. 

Peace  was  hardly  restored  when  Hugh  came  down 
the  hill,  little  dreaming  what  had  happened,  and  for 
the  second  time  passed  his  brother,  who  just  then  was 
lying  on  a  sofa  in  the  farm-house,  while  a  kind  old 
woman  adorned  his  brow  with  a  large  black  plaster,  sug- 
gesting brown  paper  steeped  in  vinegar,  for  the  various 
bruises  on  his  arms  and  legs. 

"  Some  one  killed  the  snake  and  made  a  great  fuss 
about  it,  I  should  say,"  thought  Hugh,  observing  the 
signs  of  disorder  in  the  dust ;  but,  resisting  a  boy's 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE.       269 

interest  in  such  affairs,  he  stoutly  tramped  on,  sniff- 
ing the  whiffs  of  sea  air  that  now  and  then  saluted 
his  nose,  telling  him  that  he  was  nearing  his  much- 
desired  goal. 

Presently  the  spires  of  the  city  came  in  sight,  to 
his  great  satisfaction,  and  only  the  long  bridge  and 
a  street  or  two  lay  between  him  and  Uncle  Tim's 
easy  chair,  into  which  he  soon  hoped  to  cast  him- 
self. 

Half-way  across  the  bridge  a  farm-wagon  passed, 
with  a  bicycle  laid  carefully  on  the  barrels  of  vege- 
tables going  to  market.  Hugh  gazed  affectionately 
at  it,  longing  to  borrow  it  for  one  brief,  delicious  spin 
to  the  bridge  end.  Had  he  known  that  it  was  Sid's 
broken  wheel,  going  to  be  repaired  without  loss  of 
time,  thanks  to  the  good  farmer's  trip  to  town,  he 
would  have  paused  to  have  a  hearty  laugh,  in  spite 
of  his  vow  not  to  stop  till  his  journey  was  over. 

Just  as  Hugh  turned  into  the  side  street  where  Uncle 
Tim  lived,  a  horse-car  went  by,  in  one  corner  of  which 
sat  a  pale  youth,  with  a  battered  hat  drawn  low  over 
his  eyes,  who  handed  out  his  ticket  with  the  left  hand, 
and  frowned  when  the  car  jolted,  as  if  the  jar  hurt 
him.  Had  he  looked  out  of  the  window,  he  would 
have  seen  a  very  dusty  boy,  with  a  pouch  over  his 
shoulder,  walking  smartly  down  the  street  where  his 
relation  lived.  But  Sid  carefully  turned  his  head 
aside,  fearing  to  be  recognized  •  for  he  was  on  his  way 
to  a  certain  club  to  which  Be  mis  belonged,  preferring 
his  sympathy  and  hospitality  to  the  humiliation  of 
having  his  mishap  told  at  home  by  Uncle  Tim,  who 


270  SPINNING-WHEEL    STORIES. 

would  be  sure  to  take  Hugh's  part,  and  exult  over  the 
downfall  of  the  proud.  Well  for  him  that  he  avoided 
that  comfortable  mansion ;  for  on  the  door-steps  stood 
Hugh,  beaming  with  satisfaction  as  the  clock  struck 
one,  proclaiming  that  he  had  done  his  twenty  miles 
in  a  little  less  than  five  hours. 

"  Not  bad  for  a  '  little  chap,'  even  though  he  is  l  a 
donkey,' "  chuckled  the  boy,  dusting  his  shoes,  wiping 
his  red  face,  and  touching  himself  up  as  well  as  he 
could,  in  order  to  present  as  fresh  and  unwearied  an 
aspect  as  possible,  when  he  burst  upon  his  astonished 
brother's  sight. 

In  he  marched  when  the  door  opened,  to  find  his 
uncle  and  two  rosy  cousins  just  sitting  down  to  dinner. 
Always  glad  to  see  the  lads,  they  gave  him  a  cordial 
welcome,  and  asked  for  his  brother. 

"  Has  n't  he  come  yet  1 "  cried  Hugh,  surprised,  yet 
glad  to  be  the  first  on  the  field. 

Nothing  had  been  seen  of  him,  and  Hugh  at  once 
told  his  tale,  to  the  great  delight  of  his  jolly  uncle,  and 
the  admiring  wonder  of  Meg  and  May,  the  rosy  young 
cousins.  They  all  enjoyed  the  exploit  immensely, 
and  at  once  insisted  that  the  pedestrian  should  be  re- 
freshed by  a  bath,  a  copious  meal,  and  a  good  rest  in  the 
big  chair,  where  he  repeated  his  story  by  particular 
request. 

"  You  deserve  a  bicycle,  and  you  shall  have  one,  as 
sure  as  my  name  is  Timothy  West.  I  like  pluck  and 
perseverance,  and  you  've  got  both ;  so  come  on,  my 
boy,  and  name  the  wheel  you  like  best.  Sid  needs 
a  little  taking  down,  as  you  lads  say,  and  this  will 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE.       271 

give  it  to  him,  I  fancy.  I'ma  younger  brother  myself, 
and  I  know  what  their  trials  are." 

As  his  uncle  made  these  agreeable  remarks,  Hugh 
looked  as  if  his  trials  were  all  over ;  for  his  face  shone 
with  soap  and  satisfaction,  his  hunger  was  quenched 
by  a  splendid  dinner,  his  tired  feet  luxuriated  in  a 
pair  of  vast  slippers,  and  the  blissful  certainty  of 
owning  a  first-class  bicycle  filled  his  cup  to  overflow- 
ing. Words  could  hardly  express  his  gratitude,  and 
nothing  but  the  hope  of  meeting  Sid  with  this  glo- 
rious news  would  have  torn  him  from  the  reposeful 
Paradise  where  he  longed  to  linger.  Pluck  and 
perseverance,  with  cold  cream  on  the  blistered  heels, 
got  him  into  his  shoes  again,  and  he  rode  away 
in  a  horse-car,  as  in  a  triumphal  chariot,  to  find  his 
brother. 

"  I  won't  brag,  but  I  do  feel  immensely  tickled  at 
this  day's  work.  Wonder  how  he  got  on.  Did  it  in 
two  or  three  hours,  I  suppose,  and  is  parading  round 
with  those  swell  club  fellows  at  the  rink.  I  '11  slip 
in  and  let  him  find  me,  as  if  I  was  n't  a  bit  proud  of 
what  I  've  done,  and  did  n't  care  two  pins  for  anybody's 
praise." 

With  this  plan  in  his  head,  Hugh  enjoyed  the  after- 
noon very  much ;  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  Sid, 
even  while  astonishing  feats  were  being  performed 
before  his  admiring  eyes.  But  nowhere  did  he  see 
his  brother ;  for  he  was  searching  for  a  blue  uniform 
and  a  helmet  with  a  certain  badge  on  it,  while  Sid 
in  a  borrowed  hat  and  coat  sat  in  a  corner  looking  on, 
whenever  a  splitting  headache  and  the  pain  in  his 


272  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

bones  allowed  him  to  see  and  enjoy  the  exploits  in 
which  he  had  hoped  to  join. 

Not  until  it  was  over  did  the  brothers  meet,  as  they 
went  out,  and  then  the  expression  on  Sid's  face  was  so 
comical  that  Hugh  laughed  till  the  crowd  about  them 
stared,  wondering  what  the  joke  could  be. 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  get  here  1 "  asked  the 
elder  boy,  giving  his  hat  a  sudden  pull  to  hide  the 
plaster. 

"  Walked,  as  you  advised  me  to." 
Words  cannot  express  the  pleasure  that  answer  gave 
Hugh,  or  the  exultation  he  vainly  tried  to  repress,  as 
his  eyes  twinkled  and  a  grin  of  real  boyish  fun  shone 
upon  his  sunburnt  countenance. 

"  You  expect  me  to  believe  that,  do  you  1 " 
"Just  as  you  please.     I  started  to  catch  you  with 
your  bag,  and  when  I  missed  you,  thought  I  might  as 
well  keep  on.     Got  in  about  one,  had  dinner  at  uncle's, 
and  been  enjoying  these  high  jinks  ever  since." 

"  Very  well,  for  a  beginning.  Keep  it  up  and  you  '11 
be  a  Rowell  by  and  by.  What  do  you  suppose  father 
will  say  to  you,  small  boy  1 " 

"  Not  much.  Uncle  will  make  that  all  right.  He 
thought  it  was  a  plucky  thing  to  do,  and  so  did  the  girls. 
When  did  you  get  in?"  asked  Hugh,  rather  nettled  at 
Sid's  want  of  enthusiasm,  though  it  was  evident  he 
was  much  impressed  by  the  "small  boy's"  prank. 

"  I  took  it  easy  after  Bemis  left  me.  Had  a  game 
of  tennis  at  the  Blanchards'  as  I  came  along,  dinner  at 
the  club,  and  strolled  up  here  with  the  fellows.  Got 
a  headache,  and  don't  feel  up  to  much." 


THE   HARE   AND   THE   TORTOISE.  273 

As  Sid  spoke  and  Hugh's  keen  eye  took  in  the 
various  signs  of  distress  which  betrayed  a  hint  of  the 
truth,  the  grin  changed  to  a  hearty  "  Ha  !  ha !  "  as  he 
smote  his  knees  exclaiming  gleefully,  "You've  come 
to  grief !  I  know  it,  I  see  it.  Own  up,  and  don't  shirk, 
for  I'll  find  it  out  somehow,  as  sure  as  you  live." 

f1  Don't  make  such  a  row  in  the  street.  Get  aboard 
this  car  and  I  '11  tell  you,  for  you  '11  give  me  no  peace 
till  I  do,"  answered  Sid,  well  knowing  that  Alice  would 
never  keep  the  secret. 

To  say  that  it  was  "nuts"  to  Hugh  faintly  ex- 
presses the  interest  he  took  in  the  story  which  was 
extracted  bit  by  bit  from  the  reluctant  sufferer ;  but 
after  a  very  pardonable  crow  over  the  mishaps  of  his 
oppressor,  he  yielded  to  the  sympathy  he  felt  for  his 
brother,  and  was  very  good  to  him. 

This  touched  Sid,  and  filled  him  with  remorse  for 
past  unkindness ;  for  one  sees  one's  faults  very  plainly, 
and  is  not  ashamed  to  own  it,  when  one  is  walking 
through  the  Valley  of  Humiliation. 

"Look  here,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he 
said,  as  they  left  the  car,  and  Hugh  offered  an 
arm,  with  a  friendly  air  pleasant  to  see.  "  I  '11  give 
you  the  old  wheel,  and  let  Joe  get  another  where 
he  can.  It 's  small  for  him,  and  I  doubt  if  he  wants 
it,  any  way.  I  do  think  you  were  a  plucky  fellow 
to  tramp  your  twenty  miles  in  good  time,  and  not 
bear  malice  either,  so  let's  say  'Done,'  and  forgive 
and  forget." 

"Much  obliged,  but  uncle  is  going  to  give  me  a 
new  one  ;  so  Joe  need  n't  be  disappointed.     I  know 
18 


274  SPINNING-WHEEL   STORIES. 

how  hard  that  is,  and  am  glad  to  keep  him  from  it, 
for  he 's  poor  and  can't  afford  a  new  one." 

That  answer  was  Hugh's  only  revenge  for  his  own 
trials,  and.  Sid  felt  it,  though  he  merely  said,  with  a 
hearty  slap  on  the  shoulder,  — 

"  Glad  to  hear  it.  Uncle  is  a  trump,  and  so  are 
you.  We  '11  take  the  last  train  home,  and  I  '11  pay 
your  fare." 

"  Thank  you.  Poor  old  man,  you  did  get  a  bump, 
did  n't  you  1 "  exclaimed  Hugh,  as  they  took  off  their 
hats  in  the  hall,  and  the  patch  appeared  in  all  its 
gloomy  length  and  breadth. 

"Head  will  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two,  but  I 
stove  in  my  helmet,  and  ground  a  hole  in  both  knees 
of  my  new  shorts.  Had  to  borrow  a  fit-out  of  Bemis, 
and  leave  my  rags  behind.  We  need  n't  mention  any 
more  than  is  necessary  to  the  girls;  I  hate  to  be 
fussed  over,"  answered  Sid,  trying  to  speak  carelessly. 

Hugh  had  to  stop  and  have  another  laugh,  remem- 
bering the  taunts  his  own  mishaps  had  called  forth ; 
but  he  did  not  retaliate,  and  Sid  never  forgot  it. 
Their  stay  was  a  short  one,  and  Hugh  was  the  hero 
of  the  hour,  quite  eclipsing  his  brother,  who  usually 
took  the  first  place,  but  now  very  meekly  played 
second  fiddle,  conscious  that  he  was  not  an  imposing 
figure,  in  a  coat  much  too  big  for  him,  with  a  patch 
on  his  forehead,  a  purple  bruise  on  one  cheek,  and  a 
general  air  of  dilapidation  very  trying  to  the  usually 
spruce  youth. 

When  they  left,  Uncle  Tim  patted  Hugh  on  the 
head,  —  a  liberty   the   boy   would   have   resented   if 


THE  HAKE  AND  THE  TORTOISE.       275 

the  delightful  old  gentleman  had  not  followed  it  up 
by  saying,  with  a  reckless  generosity  worthy  of 
record, — 

"Choose  your  bicycle,  my  boy,  and  send  the  bill 
to  me."  Then  turning  to  Sid  he  added,  in  a  tone 
that  made  the  pale  face  redden  suddenly,  "And  do 
you  remember  that  the  tortoise  beat  the  hare  in  the 
old  fable  we  all  know." 


"That  is  the  last  of  the  stories,  for  our  holiday  is 
over,  and  to-morrow  we  must  go  home.  We  have  had 
a  splendid  time,  and  thank  you  and  auntie  so  much, 
dear  grandma,"  said  Min,  expressing  the  feeling  of 
all  the  children,  as  they  stood  about  the  fire  when  the 
bicycle  tale  ended. 

"  I  'm  so  glad,  my  darlings,  and  please  God  we  '11 
all  meet  here  again  next  year,  well  and  happy  and 
ready  for  more  fun,"  answered  the  old  lady,  with  arms 
and  lap  full  of  loving  little  people. 

"Auntie  deserves  a  vote  of  thanks,  and  I  rise  to 
propose  it,"  said  Geoff;  and  it  was  passed  with  great 
applause. 

"  Many  thanks.  If  the  odds  and  ends  in  my  port- 
folio have  given  you  pleasure  or  done  you  any  good, 
my  fondest  wishes  are  gratified,"  answered  Aunt  Eli- 
nor, laughing,  yet  well  pleased.  "I  tucked  a  moral 
in,  as  we  hide  pills  in  jelly,  and  I  hope  you  did  n't 
find  them  hard  to  swallow." 


276  SPINNING- WHEEL   STORIES. 

"Very  easy  and  nice.  I  intend  to  look  after 
little  things  faithfully,  and  tell  the  girls  how  to  make 
their  jerseys  fit,"  said  Min. 

"  I  'm  going  to  fill  my  jewel-box  as  Daisy  did,  and 
learn  to  cook,"  added  Lotty. 

"Eli  is  the  boy  for  me,  and  I  won't  forget  to  be 
kind  to  my  small  chap,"  said  Walt,  stroking  his 
younger  brother's  head  with  unusual  kindness. 

"  Well,  I  'm  rather  mixed  in  my  heroes,  but  I  '11 
take  the  best  of  Corny,  Onawandah,  and  the  banner 
fellow  for  my  share,"  cried  Geoff. 

The  little  people  proclaimed  their  favorites;  but  as 
all  spoke  together,  only  a  comical  mixture  of  doves, 
bears,  babies,  table-cloths  and  blue  hose  reached  the 
ear.  Then  came  the  good-night  kisses,  the  patter  of 
departing  feet,  and  silence  fell  upon  the  room.  The 
little  wheel  was  still,  the  chairs  stood  empty,  the 
old  portraits  looked  sadly  down,  the  fire  died  out, 
and  the  Spinning-Wheel  Stories  were  done. 


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AUNT  JO'S  SCRAP-BAG  :  Containing  "  My  Boys," 
"Shawl-Straps,"  "Cupid  and  Chow-Chow,"  "My  Girls,"  "Jimmy's 
Cruise  in  the  Pinafore,"  "  An  Old-Fashioned  Thanksgiving."  6  vols. 
Price  of  each,  $i.cc. 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,    Publishers,   Boston 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT'S  FAMOUS  BOOKS, 


LITTLE   WOMEN ;   or,  Meg,  Jo,  Beth,  and  Amy. 
One  volume,  complete.     Price,  $1.50. 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Publishers,  Boston. 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT'S  FAMOUS  BOOKS, 


AN  OLD-FASHIONED   GIRL. 

Price  $1.50. 
ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Publishers*  Boston. 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT'S  FAMOUS  BOOKS. 


i  *it^l 


LITTLE    MEN ;  or,  Life  at  Plumfield  with  Jo's 
Boys.     Price,  $1.50. 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS,  Publishers,  Boston. 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT'S  FAMOUS  BOOKS. 


JACK  AND   JILL:    A  Village   Story.    With  illustrations. 
i6mo.     Price,  $1.50. 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,   Publishers,   Boston. 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT'S  FAMOUS  BOOKS. 


"Only  don't  be  hard  on  Sanch.  he's  been  real  good  to  me,  and  we're  fond  of  one 
another. '  — Page  22. 

UNDER    THE    LILACS.      With  Illustrations.      Price,  gi.ra 
ROBEFTS    BROTHERS,   Publishers,  Boston. 


